Silver Guilt (29 page)

‘And you're not going to mention young Piers either?'

‘No. Except to say we've broken up. My father got a list of people Piers sold dodgy jewellery to, plus all that cash. I can buy the stuff back or pay to have new stones inserted.'

‘So practical justice, if not legal justice, can be done.'

‘Exactly. Now, which is far more important, what should I wear this evening? It's Eastwell Manor, remember – so smart.'

‘More likely smart casual,' Griff said, with a sigh. ‘I believe I even saw someone wearing trainers last time we went. And spring's such a confusing time of the year, sartorially speaking. One never knows whether to dress to keep warm or if summer finery's in order.'

So
sartorial
meant something to do with clothes. Perhaps it was a word I could drop out when I was bollocking Morris for telling Tiny that I was a dimwit with words.

In the end I chose a silk skirt Griff had found for me in that wonderful Thai shop in Tenterden, and a simple top that showed off the flower pendant I'd bought for myself, not Farfrae's wife. Griff checked my hair and adjusted my slap and popped me into the taxi he'd booked for me. I felt like Cinderella without the fear that everything would go pear-shaped at midnight.

Actually, it seemed to be going pear-shaped a great deal earlier. Morris was late, so I was left sitting in the bar like a lemon, my outfit attracting the attention of a couple of men old enough to be my father who assumed I was on the game. Before I could assure them in no uncertain terms – in other words, the sort of language that might actually have convinced them and the barman that they were right – in ran Morris, apologizing and explaining so breathlessly I couldn't make out a word. We sipped our drinks and nibbled our canapés, horribly tongue-tied.

At last I blurted out what I'd wanted to say ever since the Hastings fair. ‘I was so miffed everything got tied up behind my back, Morris. I wanted to be in on the fun.'

He shook his head. ‘Modern policing isn't like it is on TV, Lina. The team and I do the leg work. Then the boffins and Crown Prosecution Service get their heads together, and tell me I can do the next bit. The arrest. And if anything goes wrong with that, everything's scuppered. Then there's another long process of interviewing and correlating statements – Tiny will be talking to you and Griff again later this week, just to make sure everything hangs together.'

‘Not Sally?'

He looked at me sideways. ‘I gather there was a problem. Do you want to tell me what it was?'

‘No. But I'd rather that Tiny was doing the talking. Sorry. I interrupted.'

He nodded slowly, like Griff did when he'd lost the thread of what he was saying. ‘All this generates so much paperwork you get smothered in it. And then – please God – there's a trial and a guilty verdict.'

‘So you can't tell me what's been going on.'

‘Not everything. Not till after the trial. Because you're a material witness. As is Griff, of course. I'm not sure about involving Lord Elham – what do you think? Would he help or hinder?'

A few days ago I'd have said he'd have ruined the case for them; after our London adventure I wasn't so sure. Thank goodness for the arrival of a waitress to take our order, which gave me the chance to work out something that wasn't quite a lie. ‘He has good days and bad, Morris. Well, you've seen.'

‘If I've seen him on a good one than heaven help us if we get him on the stand on a bad one. You know that Darrenarris will be charged with manslaughter too? After Mrs Hatch's death?'

I spread my fingers and ticked off the items. ‘Manslaughter; drugging a dippy old man he claimed was his father; running Griff off the road and beating him up; lots of thefts from my father and from the Bossingham Hall trustees. I'm glad he's not my half-brother. Will the case get a lot of publicity? You never know how many more real or fake sib . . . siblings will pop out of the woodwork.'

‘And how would you feel about that?'

‘Depends if they're in my father's notebook – I will get that back, won't I?'

‘James will, Lina – it's not technically yours, you know. And it's a good job you kept careful records of everything you've taken away and sold, or prosecuting counsel would make mincemeat of you.'

Why did I feel that despite the pretty outfit and all my efforts, Morris didn't approve of me as much as before? Or perhaps he didn't approve of the venue? A frown lingered between his eyebrows even when we were taken through to the dining room. Should I ask why? On the whole I thought it was safer to talk about our nice classy surroundings and the upmarket food before us and then tuck in and shut up.

When the first course plates were cleared, he made no effort to introduce another topic. I hated the way that despite the resident pianist's efforts the silence was deepening to the point it seemed quite threatening. So I started again.

‘Has Ms Fielding ever explained why she turned off the heating as well as the security system? I can see why she didn't want alarms and CCTV, but I can't understand why she should risk damaging pieces she might want to nick.'

‘I think she was contemplating another scam. To send precious items ostensibly damaged during a
failure
of the climate control system away for repair and to have them replaced with inferior versions – forgeries, even. With everything locked away in glass cases and cleaned once in a blue moon, she'd have got away with it for several years. Apparently there are people who specialize in replacing good with bad.'

My God, they weren't on to Piers, were they? It was all very well knowing he'd broken the law and deserved to be punished, but any enquiries would certainly reveal his sudden departure from the UK and might reveal why. And any trail involving my father would lead back to me.

Again I was saved from having to incriminate myself by the arrival of food – what they called an
amuse-bouche
– a tiny cup of soup.

‘It's a strange sort of life for a musician,' I said, thinking it was time to turn the conversation to something much safer. ‘Playing in a room like this where no one wants to listen. As bad as playing at the NEC during the LAPADA fair.' I ventured a smile. After all, it was where we'd first met, and he'd been very kind to me.

To my amazement, he frowned even more. He even opened his mouth to say something, but shut it. When he spoke, I was sure it wasn't to say what he'd first intended. ‘How's Griff getting on with Aidan Morley? It must be hard to have your sister sent down by your lover's partner.'

‘I don't think Aidan and Nella were all that close, from what Nella said the first time we met. And Aidan was outraged by the way she treated me – even bought me a new bear to replace Tim. A mega-pricey one too.'

‘That smart Steiff job that sits in your bedroom? I thought you collected them.' His face had fallen so much I nearly laughed.

‘I can always start,' I said. ‘But I'd find it difficult to sell them. It's really hard sometimes,' I added, ‘buying something for the firm and then finding you can't let it go. Like this pendant. I was really looking for something for Farfrae to give his wife. But when it came to it, I had to keep it.' There, it was out.

‘But I thought you'd divvied a print for him!'

I thought of what Griff had said. ‘I might have divvied that too. Who knows how this thing works.'

‘You make it sound like falling in love.'

I nearly dropped my spoon. Apart from Griff, I'd never heard a man use the L word.

The arrival of my guinea fowl and his beef gave me a little space for reflection. At last, as we both put down our knives and forks to take a sip of wine, I grasped the nettle. ‘Is every thing OK, Morris? All evening you've looked as if you've lost a silver dollar and found a rusty button.'

His sip turned into a swig. But he took another forkful of beef. It seemed he needed time to think too.

At last he said, ‘Your father, Lina.'

My God, they were on to him and Titus!

‘Would your life have been any different if you'd known him from the start?' he continued, as if he hadn't noticed my awkward swallow.

‘You mean I wouldn't have been dirt poor, shunted from one foster home to another, hardly in school, dabbling in crime and nearly into drugs? Yes, it might have been a bit different.'

‘Point taken. But I didn't mean like that. I meant emotionally. You and he seem to be shaking down into some sort of relationship now – a very weird one, with you more his carer than his child, but a relationship.'

‘Are you asking if I'd have liked a dad? One to love as much as I love Griff now? Do I have to tell you the answer?'

He looked down and shook his head, pushing away his plate as if he'd finished his meal.

‘Morris,' I asked quietly, ‘this is nothing to do with my father, is it? It's something else. But,' I added, ‘you might just as well finish that beef, if it's anything as good as my guinea fowl.'

He gave a short laugh and retrieved the plate. We ate in silence, but a more companionable one now.

The word amused me, but suddenly I was cross. ‘I have to tell you,' I said, finishing first, ‘that I was really miffed you told Tiny about my problems with words. I thought you were my friend, Morris, and friends don't do that. It felt like a – a betrayal.'

‘I'm sorry. It wasn't meant to be. I was telling him how hard you were working to overcome all your handicaps. All the things you said earlier. All the things that make you such a wonderful young woman.' His voice was so tight someone might have been strangling him. He stopped altogether.

The waiter whipped away our plates and hovered with the dessert menus.

‘Just coffee,' Morris snarled. I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd really fancied the chocolate fondant. ‘I was talking about fathers earlier. It seems . . . hell, Lina, my ex-partner's eight months pregnant and I'm the father. She only let me know about a week ago. You can guess how I've felt.'

‘Not from the expression on your face I can't. I'd have thought you'd be chuffed to bits.'

‘Not when I was hoping to start seeing another woman.' He took my right hand. The dent left by Piers' ring had completely disappeared. ‘But now I don't think I can. I need to be there for my daughter, don't I? Especially the hours my ex . . . my
partner
works. And I work. If I tried to be a part-time dad, I'd be no use to my daughter or to the other woman I wanted to be with. Hell, Lina, I'm so sorry. But from now on, it's got to be a professional relationship only.' He raised my hand and kissed it before returning it firmly to the table.

It dawned on me that I ought to say something. I swallowed hard a couple of times, quite upset. Yes, I really liked him, didn't I? I blinked back the tears. Whatever I said would sound heartless or corny. Especially if it was about me. I took a deep breath. ‘You mustn't just look after your daughter, Morris, you must love her too. And you must love her mother, or it won't work.'

I didn't really sort out what I felt until I was in the taxi on the way home, accompanied by another large Steiff bear, very handsome and stiff, with the sort of fur you definitely don't cry into.

Had I said all that was right? That I was very fond of Morris – could well have got even fonder – but I really honoured him for what he was doing? I hoped so. It certainly wouldn't have done to tell him that deep down I was relieved. How could you be in a relationship with a man and not be completely honest with him? Which I couldn't have been, not just for our sakes but for other people's. And I wouldn't have wanted to turn my back on old sparring partners like Titus just to give my conscience a polish.

You've no idea how glad I was to see our cottage lights still on. Griff had promised not to wait up for me, but as I was home rather earlier than expected, I couldn't shout. It's not often I drink spirits, but the thimbleful of malt whiskey Griff pressed into my hand hit the spot nicely.

‘You did very well, my love,' Griff said. ‘It sounds as if you've left his poor bleeding ego intact and have been sweet and dignified as well. And you were right to accept that dratted Steiff teddy bear, though it's a horribly sentimental farewell gift. I must say, he was too old for you, you know. Morris, not the bear.'

‘Do you think I should send him that pretty coral rattle and teether we found the other day? When the baby's born?'

‘We'll have to consider if that's wise. Perhaps we could send it from the pair of us. Now, young Robin phoned earlier – something about a concert in Canterbury Cathedral. I do hope you're free, because I told the poor love I'd go if you weren't . . .'