‘So where do we go from here?’ Rafe was asking Pamela. George had arrived back at St Meriadoc just before four o’clock and now, nearly two hours later, had gone upstairs to have a bath. ‘Do you think the bath is symbolic? Washing away the past and all that kind of thing?’
‘How does he look?’ asked Pamela urgently, as if George might reappear at any moment.
‘Peaceful,’ answered Rafe after a moment or two, ‘but subdued. As if he can relax at last … no, not quite that. Hang on while I think about it.’
They sat opposite each other at the table and Pamela felt about for his hand that he stretched out to her across the newspapers and other odds and ends, pushing aside his coffee mug.
‘He sounded rather flat,’ she suggested anxiously, as if this might help his assessment.
Releasing his hand, she felt about for the objects that lived on the table. A pretty, hand-painted spice jar that held pencils; a square pink and white china dish into which Rafe put special chocolates or sweets; a covey of small, carved birds. She picked one up, smoothing the grainy wood with one finger, feeling the sharp beak and clawed feet.
‘He does look peaceful.’ Rafe was clearly sticking to his original impression. ‘But it’s rather as if he’s arrived at where he wants to be through good luck rather than good judgement and he’s feeling deeply relieved and very thankful. Rather as if he’s been let off the hook, if you see what I mean.’
Pamela arranged the four birds into a line, beak to tail, and imagined them marching across the table while she considered Rafe’s diagnosis.
‘Well, that would be about right, wouldn’t it?’ she asked.
‘You mean if your theory is correct?’ Rafe turned two of the birds round so now two pairs faced each other, beak to beak. ‘Well, I admit it looks very likely.’
‘He realized that he was in love with Joss at about the same time that Brett came back into Penny’s life and, though George was prepared to stick with his marriage, Penny wasn’t. I think that one part of him was hurt and angry that, unlike him, she wasn’t even prepared to try whilst another part of him longed to be free. Now she’s let him right off the hook and although he’s got what he wants he’s probably feeling a bit ashamed. Penny’s taken all the blame and he’ll feel embarrassed about that.’
‘And what about Tasha?’ The birds were now balancing on their toes, beaks resting on the table as if digging for worms. ‘Do you believe she’s not George’s baby?’
Pamela was silent for a long moment.
‘I think we must let it go,’ she said at last, ‘and I suspect that George feels the same. If Tasha had been older or he’d been able to spend more time with her it would be a different story. Penny’s right to say that at that age she needs her mother and a stable relationship. Penny adores Tasha and I think she knows that she’ll get everything she needs in New Zealand. I think it would be wrong to fight it and especially now that there’s a doubt over who her father is.’
‘And, after all, if Brett is her father it shows that Penny did actually try for a year before she gave up on her marriage.’
‘He’d let her down before. Perhaps she was making certain that this time he was serious. A young man doesn’t take on a child unless he’s committed to the relationship and he’s had every chance during the last twelve months to disappear again. We must believe that Penny and George mistook their hearts and that now they both have the chance to start again with the right people.’
The birds paired off, two and two, were now roosting in the branches of a heavy glass candlestick that stood in the middle of the table. Pamela settled them more securely with gentle fingers and heaved a great sigh of relief.
‘It’s a pity that it’s all come together,’ said Rafe. ‘Penny going off and poor old Mutt …’
‘Oh, no,’ answered Pamela quickly. ‘It will get George and Joss over any awkwardness. They won’t have too much time to think about themselves and the guilt and all the other emotions. Life will just make them get on with it. Much better.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so. Although I did feel for Joss this morning when she telephoned. She simply couldn’t hide her disappointment that George had gone. I expect it was coming on top of Mutt. They were very close.’
‘Poor Joss. I can’t believe I never guessed. She’s a good girl, Pammie.’
‘She’s a darling,’ agreed Pamela warmly, ‘and I can’t wait to tell her how thrilled we are about her and George.’
‘You won’t say anything.’ He sounded shocked. ‘I mean, not before George has … Dammit, we don’t even know we’re right, do we?’
‘Of course we’re right,’ she answered serenely. ‘And of course I shan’t say anything until it’s official. What do you take me for?’
Rafe let out a great breath of relief and got up from the table.
‘I don’t care where the sun or the yardarm is,’ he said. ‘I need a drink.’
‘Perhaps George will go up to Paradise and see her and Emma later on,’ mused Pamela. ‘I wonder how they’re managing.’
From the moment Joss had arrived, Emma hadn’t stopped talking. Words streamed from her mouth as earlier the tears had streamed from her eyes: the undertakers … so friendly and kind … Mousie, such a tower of strength … how odd it had been, making out a shopping list when poor, darling old Mutt … the rector had been so sweet … made them laugh about things that had happened in the past … her own wedding … Joss’s baptism … then, after he’d gone, trying to get ready for Ray …
Talking eased her grief, shaping it into something manageable, holding misery at bay.
‘And I’ve been looking everywhere for Mutt’s address book,’ she said. ‘Of course we’ll put a notice in the Western Morning News but there are one or two people I ought to contact. I’ve searched high and low—’
‘Searched?’ The word pierced the numbness that occluded Joss’s brain. ‘Did you … find anything?’
‘Not a thing.’ Emma sounded exasperated. ‘Every time I got started there was some kind of interruption. The undertakers arriving or a telephone call or Mousie needing something.’
‘I think I know where it might be.’ Joss tried to sound casual. ‘Can you manage supper? I’ll have a look while you’re getting it ready.’
‘That would be kind, darling, but you look exhausted.’
‘So do you.’ Joss smiled at her mother, willing up her own strength. ‘But I’m starving. If you can cope with the supper it would be great.’
‘Of course I can.’ Emma got up, only too ready to be distracted. ‘I bought some lovely fish for your father tomorrow but I thought we might have something quick and simple. I bought some lamb chops …’
‘Fine,’ said Joss quickly, wondering how she’d manage to eat anything at all. ‘If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do?’
‘Nothing at all,’ Emma reassured her. ‘Why don’t you just sit and rest?’
After she’d gone, Joss tried to collect her thoughts. She was struggling with a sense of dual identity: it had been strange to come back to Paradise, knowing that life could never be the same again whilst having to behave as if nothing had changed except, of course, that Mutt was gone. How, she wondered, had Bruno lived with his secret for so long? The thought of Bruno brought her to her feet. She looked around the room, even lifting the chair seat once again, and went quietly through the hall into the parlour. There was no sign of anything that might contain the letters and she crossed to the bookshelf, glancing quickly at the titles, knowing in her heart that Mutt would never have put Goblin Market in such an obvious place.
Of course, she might have removed the papers and certificates at a later date and put them somewhere else …
Emma came in behind her, making her jump. ‘I wondered if you’d like a drink?’ she offered. ‘I thought it might do us good. There’s some Rioja in the larder, probably Bruno’s choice. What do you think?’
‘Great,’ said Joss. ‘Good idea.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Just looking for that address book. I could have sworn I’d seen it in here somewhere.’
‘I was looking in the desk,’ said Emma, coming further into the room, as if she might help in the search, ‘but then Mousie came in about something.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Joss quickly. ‘A drink sounds brilliant. It’ll unwind us a bit. I feel on edge.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Emma was pleased to have her offer accepted so readily. ‘I’ll go and get it organized.’
She pattered away and Joss drew a great gasp of relief. Perhaps it would be better to keep Emma company, thereby limiting her exploration, and look for the letters and the book when she was safely asleep. Hastily she pulled out the drawers of the desk, checking each one: no letters, no Goblin Market. The address book was lying on the table, beneath a piece of tapestry. With a little cry of relief Joss seized it up; with luck this would deter Emma from further searching for the time being.
The telephone rang and she heard Emma hurry out into the hall to answer it. Quickly Joss took up Mutt’s big work-bag and riffled through it.
‘We’re fine,’ she heard her mother say. ‘Good idea … We’ll see you in the morning then … Yes, I’ll tell her that. God bless.’
Joss came out of the parlour, holding the book, just as Emma replaced the receiver.
‘Bruno,’ she said. ‘Just checking we’re OK. He’s going to have an early night. Oh, and he said to tell you that he found those letters he was telling you about.’ She raised her eyebrows at Joss’s blank expression. ‘Mean anything to you?’
‘Yes,’ said Joss quickly. ‘Of course, I remember now. They were something to do with his book. Some correspondence he needed. I’m glad he’s got them. And look what I found.’
She held up the address book and Emma gave an exclamation of relief.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’ll get our drinks and we’ll check through it together.’
Joss sat down by the fire, dazed. Bruno had found the letters – but where? Before she could puzzle it out Emma arrived with the drinks and there was no chance for further thought.