First impressions indicated that Sunday would be as warm and sunny as the day before. Dinah’s prayers had been answered, Rona thought, as she drew back the curtains.
‘What do you bet Barnie’ll do a barbecue?’ said Max lazily from the bed behind her.
‘Well, I can’t see Sam sitting through a meal in the dining room.’
‘How old will he be now?’
‘Two and a half, I think, and Martha’s three months.’
‘I hope to God we’re not going to be subjected to baby talk all day!’
Rona laughed. ‘You and Barnie can go and grump in a corner.’
He got out of bed, shrugged on his towelling robe, and stretched hugely. ‘Breakfast in ten minutes,’ he said, and pattered barefoot down the stairs.
Melissa had changed since Rona had last seen her, on her wedding day. Although still slim, after two children she was more curved than Rona remembered, and had acquired a slight American accent.
‘It’s great to see you again!’ she cried, enveloping her in a hug. ‘From what I hear, you’re leading quite an adventurous life these days!’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Max murmured, adding, as he was hugged in turn, ‘Marriage and motherhood certainly seem to suit you.’
‘Oh, they do!’
Admittedly there was no sign of the difficult pregnancy she had undergone, that had caused her mother to fly out to be with her for the last weeks, and resulted in Martha’s premature birth. Nor was this visible in the baby herself, lying in a Moses basket under the trees, and kicking lazily as she watched the moving leaves above her head. Rona stood with Mel and Dinah looking down on her.
‘She’s gorgeous, Mel!’
‘She’s gaining weight steadily now,’ Mel said contentedly.
Barnie came out of the house, his grandson on his shoulders. Sam was familiar to Rona from the photograph in the sitting room, his blond hair and blue eyes inherited from his father. He gave Rona a shy smile but refused to say ‘Hi!’ as instructed by his mother.
‘He doesn’t say a great deal anyway,’ Melissa admitted.
‘Just be thankful!’ Dinah told her darkly. ‘Once he starts, there’ll be no way of stopping him!’
As Max had predicted, the barbecue was already lit, and he was keeping a wary eye on Gus, who had stationed himself near the meat laid ready. Barnie handed the child over to his mother and went to join him.
Melissa said, ‘If you’ll excuse us, I’ll take Sam to the bathroom before we start eating. He’s not totally reliable yet.’
‘You’re in your element, aren’t you?’ Rona teased Dinah, who was looking fondly after them.
‘Of course I am! I don’t see nearly enough of my grandchildren. But – Sam and Martha – I ask you! Did you ever hear such oldie-worldie names?’
A natural enough reaction, Rona supposed, from one who’d called her own daughter Melissa. ‘The old names are coming back,’ she said diplomatically.
Dinah shrugged resignedly. ‘Anyway, what have you been up to? I haven’t seen you for a while.’
‘Mainly finishing off the articles on Buckford. I had to go back again last week.’
‘I gather Barnie’s not too happy about your new project.’
Rona pulled a face. ‘He’s keeping a diplomatic distance till he’s sure I’m not going to be murdered in my bed.’
Dinah shuddered. ‘Don’t joke about it. It’s true, then, that you’re going after another killer?’
‘That could be a by-product, I suppose, but my main objective is to research the birth parents of someone I met. She was adopted as a baby and knows less than nothing about them.’
‘But the mother’s murderer was never caught?’ Dinah persisted.
‘No, but that was twenty-five years ago. He’s probably long dead by now.’
‘I sincerely hope so,’ Dinah said quietly. ‘Take care, that’s all I ask, and if you find you’re getting out of your depth, drop everything and get out.’
‘Yes, ma’am!’ Rona saluted.
Dinah smiled briefly and patted her arm. ‘Let’s go and join the men,’ she said.
Oddly, her warning left Rona with a vague unease that neither Max’s nor Barnie’s had engendered, and as they settled themselves round the large wooden table, she wondered why. There was no denying Dinah was a forceful character: though under five foot, she made up for her lack of inches by strength of personality, displaying a passionate interest in everyone and everything, and once formed, her opinions were not easily swayed. Watching her as she darted about distributing plates of meat and bowls of salad, Rona thought she resembled a small dynamo, her deep voice and rich laugh ringing out over the hum of general conversation.
As for Melissa, she seemed the unifying factor that melded them into a family. The wide divergence in her parents’ heights – Barnie was over six foot – had evened out to make her average, as her mother’s wiry black hair and Barnie’s softer, rapidly thinning thatch had merged into the cascade of brown curls that fell to her shoulders. As to temperament, Rona couldn’t say: Barnie was renowned at Chiltern Life for the shortness of his temper, and she had before now seen Dinah fly into a fury when thwarted. Perhaps, she thought with amusement, it would be as well to remain in Melissa’s good books.
Gus, who had been provided with his own piece of steak, slept contentedly in the shade alongside Martha’s Moses basket, and Sam had left the table to play in the sandpit hastily provided by his grandparents.
‘I wonder how many more weekends we’ll have like this,’ Dinah remarked, as the adults sat drinking coffee after the meal. ‘I always hate it when the time comes to put covers on the barbecue and lock the chairs in the shed for the winter.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Max said lazily. ‘Autumn’s my favourite time of year: crisp frosts, bonfires, and cosy evenings with the curtains drawn. Will you still be here at Christmas?’ he asked Melissa.
‘Yes, Mitch is coming to spend it with us.’
‘We’ll see him long before that, though,’ Dinah put in quickly, noting her daughter’s downcast face. ‘He’s flying back for the weekend in three weeks’ time.’
‘Sam keeps asking for him,’ Melissa said.
Poor little boy, Rona thought, missing his father. But at least he knows who his father is. And her thoughts again turned, as they so frequently did at the moment, to Zara Crane. The rest of them could utter their dire warnings, but she was determined to do all she could to solve the mystery of Zara’s birth.
They had not long been home when the phone rang, and Lindsey’s indignant voice demanded, ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to the parents’?’
‘Sorry, it never occurred to me. Why, did you go?’
‘Of course I bloody went! Sundays are a dead loss anyway, since Jonathan has to spend them with his family, but Mum never let on it would be only the three of us.’
‘Perhaps she rang you before me.’ Rona paused, glancing through the sitting-room doorway at Max, ensconced with the Sunday papers. ‘How was it?’ she asked quietly.
‘Much as usual; Mum narking away and Pops letting it wash over him. Come to think of it, though, he seemed more relaxed than usual, as though he really didn’t care what she said, instead of just pretending not to.’
With another glance at Max, still impervious behind his paper, Rona moved further down the hall. ‘I suppose you heard about the bridge tournament?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘Indeed I did. I was given a blow-by-blow account of every hand, as though it meant anything to me!’
‘Did Pops say what he did while Mum was out?’
‘No, and I didn’t ask. Why? He probably spent the day gardening, as usual.’ There was a pause, then Lindsey said, ‘Oh God! You think he was with that woman, and that’s what accounted for his good spirits?’
‘It’s a possibility, that’s all. Linz, this is getting serious. We can’t just sit back and let Mum destroy their marriage.’ Rona paused, mentally reviewing courses of action. ‘How about that girlie day out? If she’d agree to make an effort, meet him halfway, it might still not be too late.’
‘OK, I’ll see if I can fix it for next weekend. Where were you today, anyway? Mum said you were too busy to come.’
Rona’s temper flared at the injustice, but she answered steadily. ‘A prior engagement, perfectly genuine. Dinah asked us over to meet Mel and the children; they’re here for a fairly lengthy stay while her husband’s working in the Gulf. He’s with some American oil company.’
‘I don’t think I’ve met the daughter. What’s she like?’
‘Very pleasant, and the children are sweet.’
‘Getting broody, sister dear?’
‘Not a chance. Not yet, anyway.’
Lindsey laughed. ‘Well, I’ll try to get Mum organized, and let you know how it goes.’
‘You’re a brick,’ Rona said gratefully.
The Clarendon was Marsborough’s premier hotel, situated on the corner of Guild Street and Alban Road.
Rona and Max were directed to the Albany Room at the rear of the building, from where a babble of conversation was spilling out into the foyer. As they went in, Rona at once spotted James Latymer standing in a group, and in the moments before he caught sight of them, subjected him to a rapid inspection, interested to compare the television image with the living man.
Even in the flesh, he seemed larger than life, with his dark hair, florid face, and, it had to be said, expanding girth – due, no doubt, to House of Commons lunches. The woman beside him, presumably his wife, was striking in her own right – tall and slim, her hair very short but with strands curling on to her face in a style reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn. She was wearing a hyacinth-blue tunic in raw silk over wide-legged palazzo pants – so wide-legged, in fact, that Rona at first thought it was a skirt.
Possibly conscious of her gaze, Latymer glanced towards the door, and, on seeing them, excused himself to the group and led his wife over to meet them.
‘Max! Good to see you!’ he exclaimed, holding out his hand. ‘And Mrs Allerdyce – this is a pleasure! Darling –’ he turned to his wife – ‘this is the brave man who’s painting my portrait! My wife, Hester.’
She smiled and took their hands in turn. ‘Mr Allerdyce – Mrs Allerdyce.’
‘Let me get you a drink,’ Latymer said, signalling to a waiter who moved swiftly forward with a tray of glasses.
‘Actually,’ Max said, taking one, ‘Rona prefers to use her professional name. She’s known to all and sundry as Rona Parish.’
‘The biographer?’ Hester Latymer exclaimed, her eyes widening.
‘Guilty as charged,’ Rona admitted.
‘What a talented family!’ murmured James.
‘But that’s wonderful!’ Hester was continuing. ‘I’ve read all your books, and thoroughly enjoyed them. And aren’t you also doing that series in Chiltern Life?’
‘I am, yes. In fact,’ she turned to James, ‘I was hoping for a word with you, Mr Latymer.’ She opened her handbag and took out the photocopy. ‘I wonder if you remember writing this?’
‘Oh dear!’ he said with a humorous grimace. ‘Is my past catching up with me?’
He unfolded it, watched with interest by the three of them, and ran his eyes down the page. ‘Good God! Wherever did you unearth this?’
‘In the Buckford College archives,’ Rona said. ‘I was wondering if you’d give me permission to quote from it in my article on education?’
‘Not until I’ve read it!’ he replied, with a politician’s caution. ‘May I borrow it?’
‘Oh, that copy’s for you; I thought you’d like to have it.’
‘Thank you. I promise to come back to you on it.’ He folded the sheets, slipped them into an inside pocket, and looked about him, conscious of his duties to his other guests. ‘Now, I’m sure you know a lot of the people here, but is there anyone I can introduce you to?’
‘Please don’t bother,’ Rona said quickly. ‘We’ve already taken up your time, and we’re very adept at mingling.’
‘Excellent. Well, a pleasure to have met you, and I’ll be in touch.’
Hester Latymer turned to Rona. ‘I’d enjoy discussing your books with you sometime, if that would be possible?’
‘I’d be delighted.’
She smiled, nodded, and moved away to join her husband, who was already greeting another couple.
There were indeed quite a few people they knew and, the main object of the evening having been achieved, Rona relaxed and enjoyed herself, chatting to friends, buying the requisite raffle tickets and helping herself to the delicious canapés. It was approaching eight o’clock and she was beginning to wonder if they should make a move when she heard Max say, ‘Hello, Adele! I didn’t realize you were here!’
She turned quickly, and found herself face to face with the pretty, timid, and possibly abused Adele Yarborough. The man at her side was, to Rona’s surprise, smiling at her and holding out his hand.
‘Lindsey, isn’t it? Nice to see you again.’
Adele flushed a deep rose on his behalf. ‘No, Philip, this is her sister Rona, Mr Allerdyce’s wife.’
Philip Yarborough looked confused and embarrassed. ‘I do beg your pardon; I’d no idea—’
‘It happens all the time,’ Rona assured him quickly. ‘Please don’t worry about it. You’re Adele’s husband, I presume?’
‘Philip Yarborough, yes.’ He took her hand.
‘Rona Parish.’
If the difference in surnames threw him, he hid the fact, simply turning to Max as Adele introduced them. While the two men shook hands, she murmured to Rona, ‘We met your sister at a neighbour’s party.’
‘Yes, she told me.’
The pink silk blouse, Rona saw, had the usual long sleeves, and she found herself wondering if they really did hide bruises. To her untutored eye, Philip Yarborough didn’t look violent: in his mid forties, he was of average height, with a broad nose and thick brown hair that sprang up from either side of his off-centre parting. He also, she noted, had the practised, easy manner of the salesman. Quite a charmer, as Lindsey had said.
Since the men were still talking, Rona asked, ‘Have the children settled in at school?’
As usual, Adele wasn’t meeting her eye. ‘They’ve only just started, so it’s a little soon to say.’
Of course; they’d stayed with their grandparents till the end of last term. ‘How about you, then? Are you getting to know more people?’
‘Yes, everyone seems friendly, but with workmen still in the house, I can’t get out much. It takes me all my time to fit in Max’s class.’
So she was still going, Rona noted. Max hadn’t mentioned her.
‘You enjoy it?’
‘Oh, very much. It’s the highlight of my week!’ Adele flicked a glance at her husband and, catching his eye, murmured apologetically, ‘We really should be going, Philip.’
‘But I haven’t spoken to Rona yet!’ he protested, raising his eyebrows in mock dismay.
‘We told the babysitter eight thirty.’
‘Oh, very well. The burdens of parenthood!’ He turned to Rona with an unexpectedly attractive smile. ‘Perhaps we’ll have a chance to speak next time we meet.’
She smiled back. ‘I hope so.’
As they moved away, Max commented, ‘We’d better go, too. I booked the table for quarter past.’
By the time they’d said their goodbyes and collected their coats from the cloakroom, it was already eight fifteen.
‘I enjoyed it more than I expected,’ Max remarked as they set off briskly along Guild Street. ‘What did you think of our esteemed MP?’
‘I agree with your assessment: pleasant enough, for a politician.’
‘He’s in the shadow cabinet, you know,’ Max commented. ‘I’d say he has an illustrious future ahead of him.’
At Dino’s, they were ushered to their usual table and their order taken. It wasn’t until their main course had arrived that Rona said casually, ‘I didn’t know Adele had signed on again this year. You never speak of her.’
Max shot her a glance from under his eyebrows. ‘Do you wonder? Every time I mentioned her name, we had a row.’
Rona flushed. ‘That’s a slight exaggeration.’
‘Not as I remember it.’
‘It was just that you set yourself up as guardian angel on the flimsiest of evidence.’
‘You didn’t see those bruises,’ he returned, stabbing an artichoke heart.
‘So what did you make of her husband?’
‘Plausible.’
‘Plausible? What kind of judgement is that?’
‘The words “snow” and “Eskimo” come to mind.’
‘Well, he is in sales,’ she pointed out, mildly surprised to find herself defending Philip Yarborough.
‘Exactly. And the first thing a salesman learns to sell is himself.’
‘Oh, come on! He’s a director of a highly reputable store, not a second-hand car dealer!’
‘The basics are the same.’
‘So you still think he knocks her about?’
‘For God’s sake!’ Max looked quickly about him, but no one appeared to have heard.
‘Have there been any more signs of it?’ she pursued.
He hesitated. ‘Not physical signs, no.’
Rona leant back in her chair. ‘Oh, so we’re back on the psychological kick? I was forgetting you were a trained therapist.’
Max threw down his fork. ‘What did I tell you? Every time! Do you wonder I never mention her? It’s obvious you’ve taken a dislike to her.’
‘I think she’s manipulating you, that’s all, and you’re falling for it.’
‘Exactly how is she manipulating me, when she keeps herself covered up all the time?’
‘By doing just that; she knows you saw the original bruises and were suspicious of them, even if they were only a result of heaving furniture around during the move. She’s playing on your sympathy by making you wonder what she’s hiding.’
He raised a hand wearily. ‘Can we just drop it, please, and enjoy our meal? This is giving me indigestion.’
Rona did not reply.
It took a while for the conversation to teeter back on to an even keel, and they were still being careful with each other as they prepared for bed. She stood listening to the running water as Max brushed his teeth in the en suite, and when he came back into the bedroom she went to him and put her arms round his neck. After a minute he responded, and they stood in silence, holding each other.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered contritely. ‘I didn’t mean to spoil the evening.’
‘I just don’t understand what you have against her,’ he said, kissing her hair.
‘Nor do I, really, but now that I’ve met him, I honestly can’t see Philip Yarborough as a wife beater.’
‘They don’t wear badges, you know.’ He sighed, gently putting her aside. ‘All right, I might have overreacted to the bruises. I hope to God I did, because either way there’s nothing I can do about it. Now,’ he added, his voice lightening as he climbed into bed, ‘we’ve wasted enough time arguing, so let’s start making up for it.’
And, harmony restored, Rona thankfully complied.
Zara phoned at lunch time the next day. ‘The certificates came in this morning’s post,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in town after school; would you like me to drop them in?’
‘It would be a help, if it’s not out of your way.’ Rona gave her directions to the house, adding, ‘It looks rather like the big brother of yours!’
‘I’ll find it. I want to go to the supermarket first, so will it be OK if I get there about six?’
‘Fine; I’ll be here.’
When she rang off, Rona took out a clean folder, labelled it Zara Crane and set it aside. Tomorrow, she thought with a twinge of excitement, it would be bulging with the photocopies Zara was bringing with her. Then she could really get to work.
‘I see what you mean!’ Zara commented, staring up at the frontage of the house. ‘The difference is, yours is the real thing.’
Rona stood to one side and she came in, looking about her with interest. ‘Oh, you have a basement! Lucky you! How many bedrooms are there?’
‘Would you believe only one?’
At her look of surprise, Rona added, ‘We made a lot of changes when we moved in. For instance –’ walking into the sitting room – ‘this was originally two rooms and we knocked down the dividing wall.’
Zara looked admiringly at the marble fireplace, the antique tables, comfortable armchairs, and the duck-egg walls displaying Max’s collection of modern paintings, harmoniously blending the new with the old. ‘It has such character!’ she exclaimed, and Rona remembered the bare magnolia walls in Grosvenor Terrace.
‘Would you like a quick tour?’ she offered.
‘Oh, yes please! I love looking at other people’s houses.’
She dumped the heavy carrier bag at the foot of the stairs and Rona led the way up, showing her into the large bedroom with its en suite. ‘This is the only floor that we didn’t knock into one room,’ she said. ‘Principally because I needed somewhere to work.’
Zara walked to the window and looked out at the leafy avenue. ‘It’s like being in a tree house!’ she said. ‘You see everything through a screen of leaves.’
‘In summer, yes.’
They moved on to the study and it, too, met with approval, in particular the miniature fridge and electric ring. ‘The kitchen’s in the basement,’ Rona explained, ‘so this saves me going down two flights in search of refreshment. When I’m busy, I have lunch up here – to the frustration of my dog, who’s not allowed above the ground floor.’
‘It’s a brilliant idea!’ Zara enthused. ‘I spend half my time running up and down stairs.’
Back on the landing, she glanced at the flight of stairs leading upwards. ‘What’s on the top floor?’
‘Nothing of interest. It was Max’s studio for a while, but we disturbed each other, so, as you know, he now works at our other house.’
Zara flushed. ‘Me and my big mouth!’ she said.
Her most fervent enthusiasm was, however, elicited by the sunshine-yellow kitchen, the patio garden seen through its glass door, and Gus, who, waking from his nap, came to greet her.
‘I’ve always wanted a dog,’ she said, scratching his ears with both hands, ‘but with our lifestyle it wasn’t practical, and now with the baby coming, goodness knows when we’ll get round to it.’
Rona handed over the carrier bag she’d collected on the way down. ‘Take a seat. Would you like a glass of wine while we look at these?’
‘No, I’m off booze, thanks, but don’t let me stop you having one.’
‘Fruit juice, then?’
‘That’d be lovely.’
They sat at the table and Zara took out the bundle of papers.
‘These are what we copied from the newspapers,’ she said, extracting a thick pile of sheets from a manila envelope. ‘And here are the copies of the birth and death certificates. They weren’t as easy to get as mine; I hadn’t got all the dates and addresses, and had to go through the General Register Office. Still, I got there in the end.’
She smiled ruefully. ‘You know that phrase from the inquest verdict, about persons unknown? It could just as easily be a description of my parents, couldn’t it? My father’s a total mystery, and I can’t really picture Gemma, either. All I’ve got is that grainy photo they kept reprinting when she was killed. I’d give anything to see a proper one.’
‘If we can trace your grandparents, they’re sure to have one.’
Her face lit up. ‘That’s true. But what about my father? Is there any hope at all of finding him? I might have a complete family of half-brothers and sisters in Australia.’
‘We’ll advertise on the web,’ Rona said, ‘but unfortunately, since he’s not even aware of your existence, he’s not likely to log on to those sites.’
She reached across for the certificates, picking up the one that lay on top. It was Zara’s birth certificate – or rather, that of Amanda Grant.
‘That’s interesting!’ she commented. ‘Gemma’s occupation is given as radio reporter. With luck, we’ll be able to trace people who knew her.’
‘Where will you start?’ Zara enquired, sipping her fruit juice.
‘First, I’d like to meet your adoptive parents. They do know now that you’ve approached me?’
‘Yes, but they won’t be much help. They’ve told me all they know.’
‘Something might emerge. Could I have their name and address?’
‘Margot and Dennis Fairchild,’ Zara said reluctantly. ‘The Gables, Swing Gate Lane, Cricklehurst.’
Rona’s heart jerked. The last time she’d been in Cricklehurst, she’d come face to face with murder. ‘Phone number?’ she asked, and Zara gave it, adding, ‘Let me know how you get on.’
‘Actually, Zara, that’s something I need to explain: I know you instigated this search, but as I told you at the beginning, I’ll be working as a journalist, not a professional people-finder. Which means, to put it bluntly, that I won’t be under an obligation to keep reporting back to you. That might sound harsh, but it’s in your interests too; suppose I had a lead, told you about it, and then it faded away, having raised your hopes for nothing?’
Zara looked mutinous. ‘You mean you’re not going to tell me anything?’
‘Not unless it’s definite. And, as I explained, I’m limiting the search to six weeks. If something arises in that time – which I very much hope – fine, I’ll carry on working on it. But if, despite all the feelers I put out, we don’t get anywhere, then that’s it. OK?’
‘I’ve already said so,’ she answered sulkily.
‘You do see my point, don’t you? It could take years, and obviously I can’t afford to spend an indefinite time on it. As I said at the beginning, you’d be much better advised—’
‘I want you to do it,’ Zara broke in. ‘All right, I won’t keep pestering you. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer.’ She glanced at her watch, then pushed her chair back. ‘I must be going; Tony’ll be home by now.’
She stood up a little clumsily, one hand going to the small of her back.
‘OK?’ Rona asked quickly.
Zara nodded. ‘It’s just that I get tired by the end of the day, and my back starts to ache.’
Rona led the way up the stairs. ‘I’ll do my very best to come up with something,’ she promised as she opened the front door.
‘I know you will. Thanks for taking it on.’
Rona closed the door behind her, and wondered belatedly what to do about supper. Not Dino’s, two nights running; in any case, she was impatient to read through the papers Zara had brought and make some initial notes. She’d ring for a take-away, she decided, and eat it at the kitchen table with the papers spread about her. Not for the first time, she reflected that there were advantages in spending some of her evenings alone. However, before phoning her order through, she’d ring the Fairchilds and try to make an appointment for the next day. Nothing like striking while the iron was hot.
With the tingle of anticipation any new project engendered, she ran back down the stairs to check their number.