Time to Pay (35 page)

‘But he must have had it a year by then. When
was
he going to tell us?'

They were approaching the yard now, and Gideon shrugged helplessly. ‘I'm sorry, Tilly. I don't have the answers. We really need to find the diary.' He hesitated. ‘Look, this might sound a strange thing to ask, and you don't have to answer if you'd rather not, but did you find any unexplained transactions on Damien's bank statements for the last year or so?'

‘No, it was all in order. As I said, the police took everything and went through it with a fine-toothed comb, but we didn't have any secrets within the family, anyway. I had full access to the business account, and his private one was a joint account with Beth. There was nothing irregular. Why?'

Gideon had expected the question.

‘Well, I was talking to Angie Bowen at the Radcliffe Trust, and she told me they have a mystery benefactor who's been sending cash donations in an unmarked envelope, and she'd got it into her head that it was Damien.'

‘Damien?' Tilly was astounded. ‘But I told you, we'd barely scrape through if it wasn't for the sponsorship! Much as he'd have liked to help, he certainly didn't have any spare cash to hand out.'

‘That's what I told her,' Gideon agreed. ‘They were fairly hefty amounts too, I gather.'

‘No. No way. But I'm glad someone is helping her, anyway.' To Gideon's relief, she seemed to dismiss the subject almost immediately. ‘Look, come in for a coffee after we get this lot settled, and we'll ask Beth about the diary. But let's not give her the whole story just now. She's having a bit of a rough time with the pregnancy and everything.'

Ahead there was a sudden flurry of hooves and swishing tails as the horses bunched at the gate into the yard, and Tilly swore.

‘Gavin! Get Tremelo away from Benny's backside, you idiot! If he gets kicked, the vet's bill will come out of your wage packet! Honestly, that boy's a complete waste of space,' she said quietly to Gideon. ‘If I had someone to replace him, I'd have got rid of him weeks ago.'

Gideon stayed to lunch at Puddlestone Farm, but, like Tilly, Beth couldn't shed any light on the possible whereabouts of the diary. To Gideon's relief, she accepted their vague explanation as to why they wanted it without question, their cause aided by the distraction of Freddy having toothache.

‘What did it look like?' she asked, trying unsuccessfully to make the youngster swallow an aspirin solution.

Gideon had to admit that they didn't know, and after repeating Tilly's assurance that everything had been sorted through after the burglary, she seemed to lose interest.

Leaving the farm, Gideon drove through
worsening rain to Sturminster Newton to try his luck with Marion Norris once again.

‘I'm afraid I haven't got it.'

Marion Norris faced Gideon across the width of her office, her shock of red hair dragged back into a ponytail that resembled an explosion on the back of her head, and her swelling abdomen hidden under a pair of baggy dungarees.

‘But you know what I'm talking about.'

‘Yes, but I haven't got any of his diaries. Julian burned them all. The day he died, he went out into the field behind the house and had a bonfire. They all went up in smoke. Twenty-three years' worth; what a waste of time!'

‘Are you sure he burnt them all? Because
I
think he gave one to Damien.'

There was a pause. Marion regarded him warily. ‘What makes you think that?'

‘Damien photocopied one of the pages. I've seen a copy.'

She frowned. ‘So that's why you were asking about his handwriting the other day. But why would he do that?'

‘I think it had something to do with Marcus' death, and I was hoping you might be able to tell me what.'

Marion shook her head, an errant curl bobbing on her forehead.

‘I'm sorry, I can't. He never told me. But you're right, he did take one diary to Damien. I saw him wrapping it in a bag and asked him what he was doing. He said it was just something for Damien but he wouldn't tell me what.'

‘Could you describe it to me? What did it look like?'

‘Oh, it was a proper journal: a navy hardback with a red spine, and a ribbon to mark your place – you know the kind of thing. It was about so big.' With her hands she indicated something approximately eight inches by six, and then moved across to her desk and sat down at it abruptly, as if the strength had suddenly left her limbs. ‘All right, I'm sorry. What I told you the other day wasn't strictly true. I knew he wasn't coming back, that day. I should have tried to stop him, but I was just so tired. I was tired of all the sighing and self-hate and I just let him go. It was what he wanted, after all. He wouldn't have thanked me. D'you think I was wicked?' She looked up at Gideon, appearing curiously unconcerned, as if she'd just asked his opinion on some mundane matter, but a tear gathered in her eye, spilled over and ran down her cheek, leaving a glistening trail.

He shook his head.

‘If he'd made up his mind, I should think there was little you could have done to stop him.'

‘Nothing at all. He'd have found a way, sooner or later. But you mustn't tell anyone. You won't, will you? Promise me.' Her eyes beseeched him.

‘No, I won't tell.' Gideon felt sorry for her. She must have thought the whole business over and done with, and now he was here dragging it all out into the light of day once more. ‘But it
was
about Marcus, wasn't it?'

‘Yes, I think so.' The curl bobbed again and she wiped the tear from her chin. ‘Julian was convinced he'd let him down. I wanted him to
talk to Damien – to get it out of his system. I begged him to, but he said he couldn't face him. I'm afraid he wasn't very strong.'

‘And Damien never mentioned the diary to you?'

‘No. He came to the funeral but he never said a word about it, and neither did I. I just wanted it all to be over.' She was silent for a moment, staring at the desktop. ‘Do you know what I felt when the policeman came to tell me Julian was dead?'

Gideon didn't answer, and she looked up, meeting his eyes.

‘Relief,' she stated. ‘It sounds terrible but that's what I felt: relief. Oh, I cried – of course I did – but the man I lost that day wasn't the man I fell in love with.
He'd
died gradually over the last ten years or so, until there was nothing left that I either knew or wanted. It sounds brutal, but it's the truth and I'm not going to apologise.'

Gideon shook his head.

‘I'm not about to judge you, Marion. I just wanted to know if there was anything more you could tell me about what happened at that training camp, because I'm very much afraid that it isn't over, and won't be until the facts become known. It all hinges on something Julian wrote in that diary but I don't know what, and I don't know where it is.'

There was a click as the door behind him opened, and he turned to find John Norris stepping into the office from outside. He looked surprised to see Gideon there.

‘Oh! Hello. Sorry to barge in but I left my
mobile behind.' He paused. ‘Is everything all right, love?'

‘Yes, fine.' Marion sniffed and wiped her eyes with a corner of her handkerchief. ‘We were just talking about Julian.'

Norris' face hardened.

‘I didn't realise you knew my brother,' he said to Gideon.

‘I didn't.'

‘Then what . . .?'

‘It's all right, John,' Marion put in quickly. ‘
I
brought the subject up.'

‘I see.' Norris didn't look overpleased. ‘Well, it's up to you I suppose, but I would have thought my brother's affairs were family business and best left that way.'

‘I'm sorry.' Marion's freckled skin reddened. ‘I think perhaps you'd better go, Gideon. I really can't help you.'

‘OK.' Gideon glanced at each of them in turn, finding Marion apologetic and her fiancé plainly not. ‘Thanks, anyway.'

He left the office and was escorted to the gate by the triumphantly yapping Pekinese.

THE FRIDAY FOLLOWING
Gideon's visit to Marion Norris was the day of the race meeting at Towcester, to which Tilly's owner had invited them all to share her private box. Throwing caution to the wind, Tilly decided to take a chance and run Nero. He wasn't at the peak of fitness, even though Gideon and Pippa had been working on it over the last couple of weeks that he was at the Priory, but Tilly thought that might actually be an advantage after so long away from the track.

Gideon had been intending to travel to the meeting with Pippa and the others, but a slightly anxious telephone call from Tilly on the Thursday evening resulted in him promising to help her with Nero during the preparation for the race. As this included loading him into the lorry at the start of the journey and being there to unload at the course, it made sense for Gideon to travel with Tilly and the horses, which he didn't mind in the least. It was almost a week since his row with Pippa, and although he'd seen her several
times over that period, the atmosphere was still decidedly frosty.

Eve had been included in Tilly's original invitation, so ten thirty on the Friday morning found both of them arriving at Puddlestone Farm, where the day's three runners were being prettied up in readiness for their public appearance.

‘It's a pity you haven't got a jockey's licence,' Tilly said wistfully, as they looked over Nero's stable door. ‘It'd be useful if you could ride him in the race, too.'

‘Apart from the little matter of my being six foot four and about four stone over the weight allowance,' Gideon said laughing.

‘A few hours in the sauna . . .'

‘A few
months
in the sauna, maybe! And I'd be so weak I probably wouldn't be able to pull myself on board, let alone ride in a race!'

‘Gosh, I've been to the races a couple of times, but you forget how much work goes on behind the scenes,' Eve commented. ‘I mean, I don't think the average person thinks about it at all. The horses are just there, saddled and ready to run. You don't imagine them standing in their stables having their feet washed and oiled, and the straw brushed out of their hair. They always look so perfect.'

‘Sorry to disillusion you,' Tilly said, slanting a quizzical look at Gideon.

‘No, it's fascinating,' she replied. ‘Like seeing actors in their dressing rooms before they get made up.'

No doubt picking up on the buzz of anticipation, Nero put up a show of resistance to entering
the horsebox, but it was only a token affair and he very soon allowed Gideon to persuade him in.

Two of the stable lads climbed in the back with the horses, Gideon and Eve joined Tilly in the cab and they were on their way.

At Towcester there was no mistaking Nero's excitement, but under Gideon's supervision he behaved himself well, and two hours after arriving at the course he was saddled and walking briskly round the parade ring at Gideon's side, Gideon having changed into corduroy trousers and a jacket for the occasion.

Considering the last-minute nature of the decision, Tilly had been exceedingly lucky to secure the services of a top jockey in the person of Rollo Gallagher, but unfortunately a heavy fall in the previous race rendered him unable to honour his commitments for the rest of the afternoon.

After a minor panic, a replacement was found, and as the jockeys filed into the paddock Gideon led Nero across to where Tilly was briefing a good-looking youngster with golden-blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. He noticed that the lad was listening closely and nodding, but without ever meeting her eyes.

Tilly introduced him to Gideon as Mikey Copperfield, and when Gideon said ‘Hi', the jockey mumbled a reply and turned his attention to the horse.

Boosted expertly into the saddle by Tilly, Mikey immediately looked more at home, and Gideon was impressed by the quiet way he managed the animal.

As he led the horse down the pathway to the track itself, Gideon turned and smiled at the jockey.

‘OK?'

The boy nodded. ‘Fine.'

Once on the turf, Nero's feet began to dance and he tossed his head in impatience, grinding his teeth noisily.

Gideon glanced up at Mikey, but under the orange-silk-covered helmet the youngster's face appeared unconcerned, and when Gideon asked him if he was ready to go, he returned a confident affirmative.

Within seconds the brown horse was away and moving easily down the broad grassy racetrack towards the start. Mikey shifted from sitting to standing in the stirrups, his hands resting quietly on the horse's withers, and after diving his nose forward a couple of times, Nero settled into his stride and proceeded in an exemplary fashion. Gideon turned away, satisfied that the horse was in good hands, and made his way back to join Tilly and the others in the stands.

Agatha Twineham, the owner who had so generously invited them all to share her box, was a wonderfully sprightly octogenarian with a roguish twinkle in her eye. Barely five feet tall, she defiantly wore a real fur coat over her tweed suit, and a jaunty hat on her faintly blue curls.

‘I didn't kill the blasted things,' she proclaimed, when Pippa's gaze dwelt slightly longer than it might have on her mink. ‘And since they're long dead it seems more of a waste not to wear it, wouldn't you say?'

Whatever Pippa thought, she could hardly start the day by entering into a heated debate with their host and, by the time the coat had been discarded and the first of the refreshments appeared, Agatha had won them all over with her deliciously wicked sense of humour.

Her own party consisted of a rather prim female whom she introduced as a cousin, and a plump teenage boy who was apparently her great-grandson, but who disappeared five minutes after they arrived and wasn't seen for the rest of the day.