Unfinished Portrait (3 page)

‘Prue, I—'

‘Look, Rona, don't discount it out of hand. I'm not asking for an instant decision, but assuming you do eventually want to return to biographies, the longer you put it off, the harder it will be. If you don't use it, you'll lose it. The magazine stuff you're doing is all well and good, but it's pretty . . . ephemeral, isn't it? This could ease you gently back – a kind of halfway house.'

Rona smiled reluctantly. ‘You're a good advocate, I'll give you that. All right, tell me what you know about her sister and the family.'

‘Virtually nothing; only that the sister's name is Naomi Harris, and she lives in Sunningdene.'

‘She didn't say anything about Elspeth's disappearance?'

‘No, it's of no interest to me.' Prue paused and smiled. ‘Though it seems to be to you.'

‘Does Eddie know about this?'

‘That Mrs Harris approached me, yes.'

‘What did he think?' Behind her agent's laid-back manner lay a razor-sharp brain, and Rona valued his opinion.

‘That it was up to you – he's the soul of diplomacy, our Eddie. No doubt you'll phone him, and – also no doubt – you'll want to discuss it with Max. If, as you say, he thinks highly of Elspeth, I imagine he'll be in favour of your tackling it.'

‘Don't gang up on me, Prue!' Rona protested, and Prue laughed. ‘So, what happens now?'

‘You know the form. If you decide to go ahead, we'll draw up the contract. Until it's signed, you'll obviously have no contact with Mrs Harris.'

‘And if I decide not to?'

‘I'll offer it to someone else. Now, I think we've said enough on the subject. Would you like a dessert?'

Since Eddie had pleaded a prior engagement, Rona waited till she reached home before phoning him.

‘Dear girl!' he greeted her. ‘Been wined and dined by the Honourable Prudence?'

‘I have; bearing out the adage that there's no such thing as a free lunch.'

‘Twisted your arm, did she?'

‘She had a pretty good go at it.'

‘And seriously, what do you think of the proposal?'

‘God, Eddie, I don't know. I've been turning it over in my mind ever since. One minute I think I'll do it, the next I'm backing away.'

‘From what, exactly?'

‘Mainly, I admit, the commitment; I've got out of the habit of setting aside a couple of years or so on one project. Also, Prue seems to think I enjoy being an amateur detective, while the truth is, it's been thrust upon me. I certainly never intended it. In fact, one reason I've been considering another bio was as a means of escape from mayhem and murder.'

‘But that, if I remember correctly, was where it started. Have you spoken to Max?'

‘Not yet. It's his day at the Art School.'

‘So, what's the present state of play?'

‘Up in the air. I'll have to sleep on it, probably several times, before I reach any decision.'

‘Well, if you want my unbiased opinion, I think you should take it. You've been frittering along for a while now; it's time to get down to some serious work. However, I'm not going to lean on you, nor will I try to change your mind, whatever you decide. That's a promise.'

‘Thanks, Eddie. I'll let you know.'

‘God, Rona, that would be amazing!'

Rona sighed. Prue was right; Max was in favour.

‘A big name like that, just falling into your lap!'

She said sharply, ‘You do know she's disappeared?'

‘
Disappeared
? That's putting it a bit strongly. I know she's been lying low for a while, but she's always hated publicity.'

‘More than lying low, Max. According to Prue, she vanished off the face of the earth, and extensive searches have failed to find her.'

‘Oh God,' Max said flatly. ‘Here we go again.'

‘Precisely my reaction.'

‘Does that mean you're not going to do it?'

‘It means,' Rona said with heavy emphasis, ‘that I would welcome an informed discussion of all the pros and cons before reaching any decision.'

‘Obviously I don't want you taking any risks, but, as you know, I've been trying for ages to steer you back to bios, and this has been handed you on a plate. Think of it – no worry about choosing a subject, then persuading your publisher, then waiting for agreement from the estate. If you ask me, Fate is telling you to get back on the horse.'

‘Fate can mind her own flaming business,' Rona said.

But as she put down the phone and prepared to take Gus for his walk, it seemed to her that the decision had already been reached.

TWO

R
ona spent a large part of the next day on the Internet, looking up references to Elspeth Wilding. A lot of the information was repetitive, though minor facts varied from site to site. By mid-afternoon, she had copied and pasted from several different sources to open a file of her own, which, she assured herself, could be deleted if she decided to go no further.

She stretched, rubbing her back. So, what had she learned? That Elspeth Mary Wilding had been born in Buckford on 4
^th
April 1968, the third child of Richard and Hazel Wilding. That she had shown a precocious gift for painting, and had had a picture displayed in the Royal Academy's Summer Exhibition of '81. That she was considered one of the most important artists of the twenty-first century. That she'd been awarded the Royal College of Art gold medal for her year, among the first of her many prizes.

Her unwillingness to appear in public was well documented, and borne out by the same, unsatisfactory, photograph on all sites, in which her face was partially screened by a sheet of pale hair.
It doesn't matter what I look like
, she was quoted as saying,
it's my art that's important
.

The widest divergence came in reports of her disappearance, varying from wildly imaginative scenarios to the more cautious statement that she had ‘dropped out of circulation' in May 2008. What was abundantly clear, however, was that nothing had been heard or seen of her since.

‘Well?' Max said eagerly, coming into the kitchen that evening. ‘Made up your mind yet?'

Rona returned his kiss. ‘No; I told you, I want a full-blown discussion.'

‘Even though you've slept on it?'

‘Not too well, as it happens. I was turning it over most of the night.'

‘Then the sooner you make your mind up, the better. Can't have you losing your beauty sleep.' He glanced at the printed sheets she'd brought down. ‘Been genning up on her, I see. I could have told you most of that.'

‘Except for her disappearance,' Rona reminded him.

‘Well, this lot don't seem any better informed.' He poured the drinks and handed her a glass. ‘Was she officially reported missing, do you know?'

‘Prue didn't say, but I suppose she must have been.'

‘I doubt if there'd have been much response from the police. They'd only pursue it if the person who disappeared was a child, vulnerable in some way, or a criminal on the run. Otherwise, their line is that an adult has every right to go off without telling their family.'

‘Prue mentioned searches, but perhaps it was the family who organized them; I'll ask Mrs Harris. If I ever meet her, that is,' she added, catching his amused glance.

Tom Parish stood at the window of his flat taking deep breaths, his fingers prodding experimentally at his chest. Though he'd previously had two heart scares, it was a year since the most recent, and he couldn't recall the exact symptoms. God, this was all he needed! He and Catherine were flying to Portugal next week.

The doorbell sounded. That would be her now. Rather than going down to meet her, as he usually did, he pressed the buzzer and listened to her ascending footsteps.

‘Tom?' There was a note of anxiety in her voice.

He turned from the window, forcing a smile. ‘Good morning, my love.'

She came quickly towards him, scanning his face. ‘Are you all right? You look a bit pale.'

‘I
feel
a bit pale. Indigestion, probably.'

Her voice sharpened. ‘You've a chest pain?'

‘Not a pain; just a little . . . discomfort.'

She took his arm. ‘Come on – you're coming with me.'

‘What's the hurry?' he protested. ‘Surely we've time for a coffee before—'

‘Forget the shopping trip. We're off to A&E.'

‘Oh now look, Catherine, there's no need for that! It's—'

‘With your history, there's every need.'

‘Then let me give Ben a ring.' Ben Pierce was their GP and a family friend.

‘Better to go straight to the hospital; time could be
all-important. Now don't argue, there's a love. This is non-negotiable.'

He sighed, allowing himself to be led down the stairs and out to her waiting car. Guild Street when they reached it was thronged with Saturday shoppers – they should have been among them, he thought in frustration – and their progress was slowed by congested traffic.

‘I feel OK now,' he said hopefully.

‘As in toothache vanishing when you see the dentist. Sorry, won't wash. I want someone to have a good look at you.'

At last they were turning into Alban Road and, within minutes, the entrance to the Royal County. Catherine pulled up at the door.

‘You go and sign yourself in. I'll park the car and be with you in a minute.'

Reluctantly, since he'd no option, Tom did as she said.

‘Hello, Gorgeous!'

‘Dominic!' Lindsey took the phone over to the sofa and curled up with it. ‘Where are you?'

‘Still in Athens, unfortunately. I'd hoped to be on my way home by now, but there's a contract still to be finalized and the signatory's not available till Monday.'

‘So you'll be back then?'

‘All being well. What have you been up to?'

‘Fairly busy at the office, otherwise not a lot. I'm lunching with Rona and Max tomorrow.'

‘Give them my best. The four of us should get together sometime.'

Lindsey's heart lifted. Neither Max nor her parents had met Dominic as yet, and Rona only briefly. She'd been chary of suggesting he ‘meet the family' till she was more sure of him.

‘That would be great,' she said.

‘In the meantime, I'll phone as soon as I land, and if I'm home in reasonable time, I'll send the car for you. All right?'

‘Great,' she said again. It was still a novelty to be chauffeur-driven everywhere in Dominic's Daimler.

‘See you soon, angel.' And he rang off. He never indulged in long telephone conversations, Lindsey thought regretfully; if he did, it might make his frequent absences more bearable.

She leant back against the cushions, letting her eyes move round the room with a now-familiar sense of dissatisfaction. Although she'd bought the flat nearly four years ago, it was still furnished with pieces she and Hugh had chosen together, and split between them when they parted. They were no longer to her taste, and what she'd really like to do was throw everything out and start again from scratch.

Damn it, she thought impatiently, she could still see Hugh sitting in the chairs, which had been disconcerting to say the least when she was with Jonathan. Dominic had not as yet set foot here, and she realized suddenly that she didn't want him to until it was refurbished. Time, then, to put an end to vague discontent and do something about it. Redecoration would be the first step; the walls throughout were the bland magnolia slapped on by the builders, but thankfully the carpet, a nubbly oatmeal throughout, was still in good condition and would go with any colour scheme. And, by a stroke of luck, two of her friends ran a decorating service; they'd be able to advise her.

Fired with sudden enthusiasm, Lindsey swung her feet to the floor, retrieved a pad and pencil from the bureau, and began a methodical survey of her home.

Tom's heart and chest had been listened to, his blood pressure taken, and after an ECG and blood test, he'd been sent on his way with a bottle of aspirin and a spray to use if his symptoms recurred. Angina, he was told, but nothing too serious.

‘A waste of time,' he remarked, dropping into his usual chair in Catherine's sitting room. ‘I told you it would be.'

‘On the contrary; we now know what was wrong, and can take steps accordingly. We couldn't have gone away with that hanging over us.'

‘Talking of which, we still have those last-minute things to buy.'

‘And we've Monday and Tuesday in which to get them.' She smiled at him. ‘Admit it: what's really bugging you is the time deducted from our weekend.' Although they habitually spent Saturdays together, on Sundays Catherine drove to Cricklehurst, to visit her son and daughter-in-law.

He grinned shamefacedly. ‘Am I that transparent?'

‘Yes, but you can relax on that score, too. You need a quiet weekend, and I intend to see you get it.' And, in answer to his questioning look, she added, ‘I phoned Daniel from the hospital, to say I wouldn't be over tomorrow.'

‘But that means you won't see them for three weeks,' Tom protested, trying to hide his pleasure. ‘Think how many pounds Alice will have gained! You'll hardly recognize her!'

Catherine laughed. ‘You can mock. Just wait till you have a grandchild.'

‘A chance would be a fine thing. I despair of my daughters.'

‘Then you can share Alice. She'll be your step-granddaughter, once we're married.'