The Venetian House, page 48
‘D’you think she’s picked up some fella?’ the colonel asked his wife uneasily.
‘Oh, I don’t think so, dear. I think she’s just catching up with old friends,’ said Norma, soothingly, but privately Howard still wondered. It would at least be better than all the strange interests Rachel seemed to have got caught up in lately. Since the arrival of Bronwen in her life, to the colonel’s baffled incomprehension his daughter had developed a line in psychobabble that sent him speeding to his study for a gin and tonic at the most inappropriate hours of the day. Anything would be preferable to tripping over Rachel on the landing in what he considered ‘dodgy positions’, practising yoga on a little rubber mat or plugged into a CD player meditating to the music of copulating whales.
‘I don’t know what’s got into her,’ he complained to his wife. ‘She’s always been difficult but she used to be normal. No wonder Patrick’s had enough! If I have to hear the opinions of that Richards woman much more I shall blow a fuse. Rachel told me yesterday she believes they were lamas together in a previous incarnation, for God’s sake!’ The colonel had had an absurd vision of his daughter and Bronwen Richards, not dressed up in saffron robes in a temple, but cropping grass together side by side somewhere in the Andes. Not normally given to whimsy, he was unnerved by such a flight of fancy. ‘According to Rachel this frightful pseud – who sounds like a criminal if Patrick’s to be believed – has freed her from the inhibitions and hang-ups which we apparently gave her in her childhood. All I can say is that I wish she’d bloody well get some of them back again.’
Howard Ingfield gazed gloomily at his gleaming brown brogues as though he sought a revelation in their ultra shiny toecaps. He’d been driven into a state of near apoplexy by the sight of Rachel doing what she called her ‘Indian energising exercises’ on the patio that morning – after which she was so exhausted that she didn’t feel up to giving Posy breakfast.
It was therefore with a sense of foreboding that they heard Rachel answer her mobile one evening (right in the middle of dinner too) and shriek ‘Bronwen!’ in a tone of high excitement. She had rushed out of the dining room and not returned for nearly half an hour, when she appeared to be in a state of euphoria.
‘Wonderful!’ she announced. ‘Bronwen’s gone to Spain and has suggested I go out to visit her!’
‘Whatever for?’ asked Norma, her heart sinking.
‘Just for a little holiday with Posy at the moment, but possibly to see if I might like to help with a new centre she and Milo are setting up together. It sounds a wonderful venture.’
‘A centre for what?’ asked Howard, chomping up his steak and kidney pie.
‘Oh, therapies and things,’ said Rachel vaguely. ‘Bronwen thinks I might be a terrific asset in getting it off the ground.’
‘I’ll bet she does!’ growled her father, ‘so long as you take your cheque book with you.’ He’d been very uncooperative when Rachel suggested he might like to lend Bronwen money.
‘I’m amazed she has the nerve to ask you,’ said Norma indignantly. ‘It’s lucky you can’t go.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rachel. ‘Now that Patrick and I are splitting up, I’m free to do anything I like. Bronwen’s been saying for ages that I’ve been a slave to his lifestyle for far too long. There are other possibilities that have come up lately about what I may want to do with my life, but this sounds interesting – the sort of thing I could really get my teeth into. A challenge. Anyway, I need advice from her about my future.’
‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Rachel?’ Norma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘The school holidays are about to start. I know Sam’s off travelling but what about Sophie? And I don’t think Patrick would be too happy at the idea of you taking Posy to stay with the woman who stole your jewellery. I thought the police told you to let them know if she made contact? That’s very serious.’
‘Oh that …’ Rachel waved her hand dismissively. ‘Bronwen says that jewellery thing was all a ridiculous misunderstanding. Patrick wouldn’t let her explain properly. She says she only borrowed it as security for a loan … just to tide her over … apparently she’d mentioned it to me, but it must have slipped my mind. I’ll get it all back when she redeems it. Now that she’s got over the shock of Patrick losing the plot in that ridiculous way, she thinks it’s all a bit of a joke.’
‘If you swallow that you’ll swallow anything,’ exploded her father. It was clear to him that this woman was capable of making his daughter believe any amount of dangerous moonshine. ‘For an intelligent woman you can be remarkably stupid sometimes, Rachel,’ he said testily.
‘If you’re going to persist with this idea of a separation, you’ll have to get it all put on a proper footing, Rachel, darling,’ said her mother nervously. ‘Your father and I love having you and Posy to stay – of course we do – but we’re not getting any younger and we can’t go on indefinitely like this, for all our sakes. You and Patrick will have to sort out some more permanent arrangement soon.’
Which was exactly what Patrick had said to his wife on the telephone only a few days before.
Rachel’s pretty face set in the mulish look her parents knew so well. ‘Well, Patrick will have to cope with Posy for a change if he doesn’t want me to take her to Spain,’ she said, conveniently forgetting that for the last two years she’d been doing her best to shut her husband out of his daughter’s upbringing. ‘I’m sure Yvonne would go back to Wytherton – it’s only coming south she doesn’t like.’
‘What about Posy’s feelings? She’s such a mummy’s girl.’
‘Posy’s growing up. She’ll have to adapt – as we all will – to change,’ said Rachel loftily. Without the back-up of Patrick and Yvonne she was not finding the sole charge of her small daughter as easy as she expected. The beguilingly dependent toddler was turning into a strong-willed little person whose wishes by no means always coincided with her mother’s.
Her parents stared at her. ‘Well, you certainly can’t leave her here with us,’ said Howard Ingfield decidedly. ‘It’s too much for your mother.’ He thought the time had come, belatedly, to take a stand with his daughter. He was beginning to think his son-in-law must have been little short of a saint to put up with her for so long.
‘For heaven’s sake! I’d only be gone for a week or two! Anyone would think I was doing a runner, from the way you’re talking.’
‘Like Bronwen Richards did,’ said her father disagreeably. ‘Well, don’t come to me for help if this con-artist gets you into trouble. I shall wash my hands of you. They tell me Spanish gaols are exceedingly uncomfortable.’ And the colonel had stalked angrily out of the room, knowing perfectly well that he would never be capable of carrying out this threat but feeling a great deal better for having uttered it.
‘Why don’t you sleep on it, darling?’ said Norma soothingly, the old habit of trying not to upset Rachel kicking in, but deciding that it was time she spoke to her son-in-law herself and alerted him to his wife’s latest idea. ‘It may all seem different to you in the morning. It’s never a good idea to make impulsive decisions,’ she added – not that she’d ever tried it herself.
When Sophie emerged blearily into the kitchen at Warwick Square at nine thirty on Saturday, her father was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading The Times. Nothing except the prospect of seeing Matthew Burnaby would have made her surface so early, but for Matthew she had set her alarm and intended to rouse Sam in time to get a mid-morning train down to Maidenhead.
‘How’s my Sophie?’ asked Patrick cheerfully. ‘Did you sleep all right after that great party last night?’
Sophie grunted and glowered at him through her hair, every movement expressing reproach. Patrick gave her a questioning look and went back to his paper. He had a shrewd idea what was eating into his daughter and felt very sorry for her, but he wasn’t going to play guessing games with her.
‘So – did you ring Granny last night then?’ she asked eventually, finding his lack of reaction maddeningly frustrating.
‘No – as I said it was too late. I tried this morning but they were engaged so I’m just about to try again.’
‘Oh – funny. I could have sworn you rang last night.’ Sophie’s voice was loaded with accusation. ‘In fact,’ she said provocatively, ‘I know you did because I heard you.’
‘No, you didn’t, Sophie,’ said Patrick evenly. ‘You heard me ringing Victoria – as I think you very well know.’
‘How on earth was I supposed to know that?’
‘Partly because I told you I was going to, and presumably because – as you’ve just told me – you could hear the conversation?’
There was an uncomfortable pause. Sophie stared defiantly at her father and encountered a look that didn’t appear very often but which she recognised all too well. She dropped her eyes first.
‘Now listen to me, darling. I know how hard all this is for you but …’ Patrick, who was determined not to be goaded into a row with his daughter, was about to try to talk to her about the whole Rachel situation when the telephone rang. He picked it up.
‘Hello? Oh, hello, Norma. I gather you tried to get hold of me yesterday, but I didn’t get your message till late last night.’
Sophie felt grateful the call would give her a chance to recover from a loss of face. She didn’t really want to have a confrontation with her father either.
Then she heard him say: ‘She’s thinking of doing WHAT? She can’t be serious? That’s so bloody stupid!’
Sophie nearly exploded with curiosity.
Patrick said: ‘I see. No … no, of course you can’t. Yes, I fully understand that. Can I speak to her? Is she there now? Oh … well when will she be back?’ Sophie could hear her grandmother’s voice wittering on. Then her father said, ‘Of course. Right. Are you sure she’ll be there on Sunday if I come down? I’ll do a bit of reorganising and ring you back. No, of course you were right to tell me. Sunday lunch would be very helpful, thank you, Norma. Perhaps we could all three come? I’ll let you know. Bye then – speak to you shortly.’
‘Dad, what’s happened?’
‘That bloody Bronwen woman again!’ Patrick looked angrier than Sophie had ever seen him. ‘And I thought we were shot of her at last! Your mother wants to go off to Spain to see Bronwen Richards – that’s what.’
‘No! What are you going to do?’
‘Go down to Chobham on Sunday and try to sort things out with Mum. I suggested I should go today but Granny says Mum’s not there anyway and they’re taking Posy out to lunch with friends. I’m damned if I’m going to let your mother take Posy anywhere near that frightful woman. I’d rather call the police.’
‘Do you think Mum might still go even without Posy?’ asked Sophie.
‘Let’s hope not, but apparently she told your grandmother it was high time I took my turn with Posy – and Posy would just have to get used to it,’ said Patrick wryly.
‘Oh, Dad – that was a mean thing for Mum to say. You’ve always been great with Posy. Lucky Yvonne’s there.’
‘She isn’t,’ said Patrick grimly. ‘It appears Yvonne went back to Yorkshire but Mum never told me that.’
‘I don’t believe it! Granny and Grandpa are hopeless with Posy – she’s quite scared of them. Sam and I used to be scared of them when we were little too – Granny never thought anything was funny and Grandpa always seemed so cross. Poor Pose will be miserable.’
Patrick put his arm round his elder daughter. ‘You’re very generous to your sister, Sophie. I know you find her a torment sometimes. I’m going to be in London most of next week because the Heritage at Risk people have asked me to photograph a couple of properties in the south. Mum and I urgently need to get the plans for the summer holidays sorted out so I think it would be good if you and Sam came down to Chobham too. I know you both want to go to the Marshalls on Sunday night but I could put you on a train to York later in the day. For the next couple of months I’m afraid this upheaval is going to affect you most of all, Sophie, so I think you should be involved in any discussions about holiday plans. What do you think?’
‘I’d like to come – but, oh Dad! – how can Mum bear to see Bronwen again?’ Sophie had a lot to think about.
‘I really can’t imagine,’ said Patrick despairingly. ‘Better wake Sam if you’re off to the Burnabys at eleven – and you’d better tell him the latest developments in the Hammond family crisis too.’
‘Gosh, yes!’ Sophie got up from the table, taking her piece of toast with her. She didn’t dare ask if Victoria had accepted her father’s invitation but as she got to the door he took pity on her. ‘In case you’re wondering,’ he said ‘Victoria is coming out to lunch with me. I would have put her off if Mum was at Chobham, but as it is I’d like to stick to the plan. I thought we might go to the Hind’s Head at Bray or somewhere round there – is it any good offering to pick you and Sam up from the Burnabys on our way back? We wouldn’t be that far away if it would help.’
Sophie came back and flung her arms round her father. ‘Thanks, Dad. Thing is – it might be a bit soon to be picked up after lunch … depends on how things go. You know how it is?’
‘I know,’ said Patrick. ‘Tell you what, I’ll keep my mobile switched on for once and if you want collecting you can ring me. If not you and Sam can make your own way back – but let me know if things go so well that you intend to stay with the Burnabys for dinner as well. How’s that?’
‘Cool,’ said Sophie. Then she added: ‘Sorry I was such a pain. Everything seems such a muddle at the moment … but you really are the best father in the entire world.’
‘Hmm,’ said Patrick laughing. ‘Sometimes!’
Chapter Forty-one
Patrick arrived to pick Victoria up soon after eleven. Guy answered the door and the two men eyed each other with interest and a carefully disguised suspicion, which deceived neither of them.
Over kitchen breakfast in their dressing gowns, Victoria had regaled Guy and Francine with an account of her meeting with Hugh the previous evening, of the party at the Crompton Gallery and, above all, of the portrait of Evanthi. She showed them the cover of the catalogue and could see Guy was impressed.
‘You just have to go and see it,’ she told them. ‘I think the exhibition’s on for a month and you’d love some of the other pictures too – but seeing Nonna’s portrait is an absolute must. There’s a stunning one of Sophie Hammond – Patrick’s daughter too – interesting to compare Hugh’s style as a young man and now.’
Guy already knew and admired Hugh’s work though he’d never actually met him, and he and Francine promised they would go the following week. It was fun telling them about everything and they made a very satisfactory audience, being full of curiosity about what she had thought of Hugh.
‘Could you understand what your grandmother saw in him?’ asked Francine. ‘He must have been quite something for her to have carried such a torch for him all these years.’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ said Victoria unguardedly. ‘I thought he was irresistible. I could easily fall in love with him myself!’ Guy gave her a sharp look.
‘You said Nonna and Nafsica both thought Patrick Hammond was incredibly like his uncle when they saw him at Vrahos, so perhaps you could fall for the nephew just as easily as for the uncle?’ he suggested – joking, but with an edge to his voice.
‘Oh, definitely!’ By admitting such a possibility so airily Victoria hoped she would allay any suspicion Guy might have that she had already done so, but when she announced a little later that she was going to lunch with the Hammonds, deliberately not specifying that it was with Patrick alone and not with the rest of the family, he gave her a very beady look. She was thankful that he and Francine had gone to bed when she’d got in the night before and did not know that her mobile had rung just as she was getting into bed herself. She had been very surprised.
‘I just wanted to check that you’d got back all right,’ Patrick had said. ‘I can’t tell you how lovely it was having you with us and watching Hugh enjoy your company too. Victoria … I’d hate you to feel I’m crowding you but is there the slightest chance that you’d be free tomorrow? Sam and Sophie are unexpectedly going to some friends – the famous Matthew she was so hooked on in Corfu – so I’ve got the day to myself to do what I like … and what I’d like more than anything would be to see you again.’
She had hesitated for a moment, and Patrick, at the other end of the line, held his breath for her answer, but, ‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more either,’ she said happily.
‘Wonderful. For an awful moment I thought you were going to say no. Shall I pick you up mid morning and we’ll go off somewhere for lunch?’
‘Guy and Francine are having a dinner party for me in the evening so that I can see various friends while I’m over here – but I’m sure they haven’t arranged anything in the middle of the day. I’d adore to come. I’ll look forward to seeing you very soon, then.’
‘Me too,’ he said. ‘Good night. Sleep well.’
After he’d rung off she had lain awake for a long time wondering what was happening to her and where it might be taking her. It seemed disturbingly soon after Richard’s death to be feeling any of the emotions she was conscious of, and she was half horrified at herself, and yet she also had a sense of rightness, almost of inevitability, that would not allow for guilt. What had Hugh said last night about fate? What will be, will be. She felt a frisson of excitement.
