30
Like Rosa, Frankie couldn’t wait to slip the ring on her finger. ‘What does Naomi think?’
‘She’s thrilled. They all are.’
‘And Bing’s family? Or shouldn’t I ask?’
Miriam grimaced. ‘Camille’s refusing to speak to him. Pascale and Leon are in denial.’
‘I don’t get it. You’d think they’d be grateful their father will have someone to take care of him in his dotage.’ She passed the ring back to Miriam. ‘He must have blotted his copybook, big time. Something to do with his divorce, perhaps? Why did they split?’
Miriam shrugged. ‘I suppose the marriage ran out of steam.’
‘You suppose?’
‘We agreed raking over the past would achieve nothing.’
‘But he knows about Sam?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He knows he died in a car crash. I did offer to tell him the whole story, but he didn’t want to know.’ She pictured the envelope, curling and burning. ‘He says he can’t bear to think I had a life with another man.’
‘For goodness sake. How old is he? Five?’
Miriam clapped her hands. ‘Let’s talk about something else. Tell me, how was your Christmas?’
‘Depressing. Stinky. Knackering. And there was a great long list of rules.’ She marked them off on her fingers. ‘Volunteers weren’t allowed to be alone with “clients”. We weren’t allowed to ask personal questions. Or tell them anything about ourselves. I understand why but it’s flippin’ hard. You don’t realise how you depend on that sort of stuff when you meet someone for the first time. Obviously you can’t sit there in silence. You have to natter about something. It’s very different from speed dating.’
‘You’ve speed dated?’
Frankie grinned. ‘Who hasn’t?’
‘So what did you talk about?’
‘Weather. Music. Food. Don’t laugh, at one point I was discussing football.’
‘Would you do it again?’
‘Who knows where I’ll be in twelve months. But I’m definitely going to help Jen with the soup run.’
‘Good for you.’
Miriam’s approbation was tempered with unease. It wasn’t in Frankie’s nature to keep her distance. Neither was she the best judge of character as her history of calamitous liaisons proved. Warm, empty house. Soft heart. Frankie’s new-found altruism could, all too easily, go awry.
Bing remained intransigent on the issue of Danny and Miriam had resorted to shoving Denton and Ryde’s invoices into her bag before he had chance to spot them. This month’s arrived early. It felt different – bulkier – and she could barely wait for Bing to leave for work before opening it.
Along with the regular invoice, the envelope contained a letter from James Denton.
Dear Mrs Siskin,
Regarding the work we are carrying out in respect to your brother, Daniel Edlin and his wife and daughter, Ava and Pearl Edlin. Our operative in the United States has reported a lead in the case. I must stress that this might prove to be inaccurate or indeed, a dead end. Whilst this is encouraging, I advise caution.
I would be grateful if you could phone me at your earliest convenience.
Yours sincerely
James Denton
Although it was late, Denton was still at his desk.
‘Tell me quickly,’ she said. ‘What’s this “lead”? Is Danny alive?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Mrs Siskin. The lead I spoke of refers to a Pearl Edlin who taught at a school in Prescott, Arizona, in the early nineties. Her date of birth ties in with the information you provided. She worked there for three years. We’re trying to discover where she went after that.’
‘So nothing on my brother?’
‘Nothing so far I’m afraid.’
‘Would more money help? Or could you—’
‘These things take time, Mrs Siskin. The man we have engaged is expert in this field. If there’s anything to be found, I assure you he’ll find it.’
Miriam felt sick with disappointment. She wanted to scream at the pompous fool who failed to understand that not only had she inherited her parents’ worldly goods but also their torment over Danny’s disappearance. She was longing for her brother not some girl she’d never met. Arizona? He’d never given her an address in Arizona. The ninetieswere a long time ago. Her niece – if it were her niece – could be anywhere. If they were to track her down there was no reason to think she and Danny had stayed in contact, especially if his split with Ava had been acrimonious.
Bing was tetchy when he returned from the surgery. She’d made up her mind to tell him about Denton’s news as soon as he came in but it would be a mistake to raise the issue whilst he was in this foul mood.
‘Anything wrong?’ she said.
‘If you must know I bumped into that creep Stanway.’ He paused, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen him?’
She hadn’t recognised the man when he came into the shop. ‘Alan Stanway,’ he’d said. ‘The party at Monkton Square.’ ‘Of course.’ ‘I heard you worked here so I thought I’d drop in and say hello.’ ‘You might consider buying a book whilst you’re here,’ she’d said. ‘Sure. Half a dozen if you’ll let me buy you a drink.’ She’d been stunned at the man’s gall. ‘I don’t think Paul would be too happy,’ she’d said. He’d winked. ‘I won’t tell him if you won’t.’ And she hadn’t told Bing because – well, because of the state he’d got himself when Stanway had cornered her at that Christmas party.
‘I didn’t mention it because it wasn’t worth mentioning,’ she said.
‘Really?’ Bing said. ‘He was smirking all over his fat face as usual. He couldn’t wait to tell me you agreed to go for a drink with him. Did you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. No. No.’
‘So why even ask me? It’s degrading having you interrogate me like this.’
Miriam favoured holding the reception at home. ‘We’ll get caterers in. It’ll be nice.’
Bing dug his heels in saying the occasion warranted more than a few sausage rolls in the living room. The Angel Hotel already had one wedding booked for that day but the manager – a close friend of Hazel’s – offered them the small dining room which accommodated a couple of dozen guests. Short of roping in Bing’s work colleagues, she couldn’t see how they could rustle up anywhere near that number and they accepted. She stuck to her guns on everything else. No designer dresses, apart from Rosa’s, no extravagant flower arrangements, no flashy cars. They’d ask David to take photographs. The local bakery could supply the cake and she would enjoy making the invitations.
Bing failed to conceal his frustration. ‘We’ve waited forty-odd years, don’t you think we deserve a bit more razzamatazz?’
Her father had gone overboard when she married Sam, but having capitulated on her choice of husband, what had been the point in her objecting to the rest of the circus? So. Vintage cars; two hundred guests (few of whom she’d met); a klezmer band, for crying out loud. And that ghastly lace dress – rigid and bright white. Having formulated the masterplan, her father had left her mother to sort out the details. Miriam hadn’t hindered preparations but neither had she helped which, looking back, had been horribly unkind.
Naomi, too, was disappointed at her mother’s modest plans. ‘It’s your wedding, Mum. Isn’t that important?’
‘Of course but there are other things to consider.’
‘Such as?’
‘Paul’s children. They haven’t said whether they’ll come or not. It’s bad enough as it is but if we opt for an elaborate “do” and they don’t show, it’ll be doubly mortifying.’
After months of Miriam’s stonewalling, Naomi had abandoned her ambition to meld the families and, shrugging, she let it rest there.
Ceremony and reception booked, Miriam put preparations on hold until after Easter. That would give her more than enough time to organise what amounted to a delicious lunch with people whom she loved.