Unfinished Portrait (6 page)

‘Then let's toast the latest magnum opus!' Tom said, raising his glass. ‘May it equal or even outshine the success of its predecessors!'

‘Linz.'

‘Hi, Rona. Going in for breakfast calls now?'

‘Well, you don't like me phoning the office, but we didn't get a chance to talk, either on Sunday or last night, and I was wondering how things are?'

‘Comme ci, comme ça.'

‘Heard from his lordship yet?'

‘Briefly.'

‘I'm not trying to pry, Linz; I just thought you were a bit quiet at Catherine's.'

‘Twin radar?'

‘It happens. Are you free for lunch? Once I start work, I'll be pretty tied up.'

‘OK, you're on. The Gallery or the Bacchus?'

‘Let's make it the Gallery; it's less formal.'

‘About one?'

‘See you there.'

Rona replaced the phone thoughtfully. She needed to clear her mind as well as her desk before starting on the biography, but as always her family weighed heavily: Lindsey, because of the confounded Dominic, whom she'd hoped had come to heel but apparently hadn't; her mother, in case her lodger put a spoke in a promising romance; and her father, because there'd definitely been a strained look about him the previous evening. And the frustrating thing was that she could do nothing about any of it.

What she needed, she decided, was fresh air and exercise.

‘Walk, Gus!' she said. The dog looked up expectantly as she took down his lead, then bounded ahead of her up the basement stairs and waited on the front mat, tail wagging, as she shrugged on a jacket.

It was still early, and the overnight mist was clearing slowly as the sun broke through. Dew still lay on the decorative railings and on the tops of cars whose owners had not yet left for work.

At the corner they turned right, then right again into Charlton Road, where an enterprising builder had erected a row of garages to serve the houses in the Avenue, which, being Georgian, lacked them. Rona and Max owned one, and she'd soon be collecting her car to drive to Buckford. Today, however, she was making for the slip-road that led from here to Furze Hill Park.

It was their favourite walk, hers and Gus's; hers because the park, with its bird's eye view of the town, gave her a feeling of space from the problems that beset her; his because, up at the top end, he could run freely, retrieving anything Rona might throw for him. Today, she'd slipped a ball in her pocket.

A group of schoolgirls, neat in their green uniforms, were emerging from the passage, using it, no doubt, as a short cut from the houses up in Park Rise. Where, Rona remembered, Dominic had his penthouse. In fact, the only time she'd met him had been at the top of the park, when he'd briefly mistaken her for Lindsey. To her surprise, she'd found she liked him, but that liking would be short-lived if he continued to upset her twin.

She and Gus emerged from the alley opposite the park gates and made their way up the steeply sloping path past neat beds of chrysanthemums and dahlias, the duck pond and the children's play area, to the uncultivated area at the top, a favourite haunt of dog-walkers. Rona released Gus from his lead and he ran joyously ahead, ears flapping in the breeze that was always present up here.

To her right, the town below her still lay shrouded in mist, through which chimneys and steeples were gradually emerging. Hidden beneath it, Lindsey would be arriving at her office, Max setting out his paints for the day's work. And her father and Catherine would be leaving for the airport. She did hope the break would take away that tightness she'd noticed round his eyes and mouth. For eighteen months now, she'd lived with the constant fear of another heart attack.

Gus had returned and was bounding up expectantly. Rona laughed.

‘Quite right!' she told him. ‘I came up here to forget my problems, not to dwell on them.'

And, taking the ball from her pocket, she flung it as far as she could up the slope.

It had been good to see Rona for lunch, Lindsey thought, as she threaded her way through the home-going traffic. They could speak more freely to each other than to anyone else, and it usually proved therapeutic.

It was Rona, always the more practical one, who'd raised the question as to what Lindsey would do during the refurbishing.

‘Presumably all the furniture will have gone, and the place will smell of paint. You'd better move in with us for a week or two.'

Incredibly, she hadn't thought that far ahead. ‘Wouldn't you mind? Or Max?' she'd asked.

‘Well, Max isn't there half the week, and come to that, I might be away the odd night myself, in Buckford. But provided you can face the camp bed, you're welcome to the studio.'

There was no guest room at number nineteen, but on the top floor, like those below it, dividing walls had been removed. The resulting large, light space had been intended as Max's studio, but since the purchase of Farthings it had degenerated into a junk room.

‘Don't worry, we can soon clear a space,' Rona had assured her. And then she'd raised an interesting point: whether Lindsey's resolve to refurbish was a declaration of independence, a means of showing Dominic she wasn't expecting to move in with him.

‘Would you, though, if he asked you?' Rona had asked, when she'd denied it. And, forced to consider the question, she'd been surprised to find she would not.

‘Not as things stand, anyway,' she'd added. ‘I'd feel vulnerable, with no bolt-hole to run back to. Also, he's away so much; I'm better off in my own little pad. Of course, if marriage was on the cards . . .'

Her voice had tailed off, and Rona squeezed her hand sympathetically. ‘I shouldn't hold your breath,' she'd advised, and Lindsey knew she was right.

She sighed, and switched on the radio. She'd left the town behind now and was on the northern stretch of Alban Road leading out to the small development where she lived. And minutes later, as she turned into the gateway of number six Fairhaven, she felt the usual lift of coming home, and knew she'd be loath to give it up.

She garaged the car and let herself into the flat, pausing just inside the door to survey the walls stretching up to the landing above. Bland magnolia, she thought; but what did she want in its place? She'd neither the time, nor, frankly, the inclination, to spend hours poring over pattern books and paint charts. If only she could wave a wand and have it all finished, without having to agonize over it!

Ten past six; she'd just time for a final tidy before her friends arrived. She was putting away the breakfast things, left draining on the sink, when the telephone shrilled through the flat.

Dominic!
she thought, heart pounding, as she hurried to pick it up. But it was Hugh on the line, and she felt a spurt of irritation.

‘Just phoning for a chat,' he said.

‘This isn't a good time, Hugh; I'm expecting Nina and Nicole – they're coming to advise me on redecorating the flat.'

‘
Double N
, eh? Wouldn't a can or two of paint be cheaper?'

‘No doubt, but I'm throwing everything out and starting again.' She paused as a thought struck her. ‘The furniture's going in to auction, together with some pictures and ornaments. Is there . . . anything you'd like first claim on?'

He gave a brief laugh. ‘It's so long since I've been in your flat, I can't remember what's there.'

‘Oh, for heaven's sake! Three-piece suite, bedroom furniture, bookcase . . .'

‘Finally ditching old memories?'

She bit her lip. ‘If you put it like that.'

She heard him sigh.

‘Hugh, they'll be here—'

‘Yes; yes, you said. All right; I won't have room for much, but I would like a quick look, if that's OK. Shall I drop in later, when the girls have gone?'

Lindsey hesitated, but really, the sooner he came, the better; she'd need to clear the flat before any work could begin. And yet again, Dominic hadn't phoned. She was damned if she'd put everything on hold to suit him.

‘Better make it eight o'clock, then.'

‘You won't have had time to eat, will you?'

‘Hugh—'

‘Don't panic; I'm not suggesting a night of unbridled passion, merely a pie and pint at the Peacock.'

Lindsey laughed in spite of herself. ‘All right,' she said.

Nina and Nicole stood in the middle of the sitting room, looking about them. Nicole had dropped a bulky envelope and some heavy sample books on the sofa, but so far their contents had not been examined.

‘We were running through some ideas before we came,' Nina said. ‘Duck-egg walls were a thought, with curtains and coverings in café au lait. But am I right that you face north here?'

Lindsey nodded.

Nina shook her head doubtfully. ‘Might be a bit cold, then.'

‘We could reverse it?' Nicole suggested. ‘Pale coffee walls and light blue furnishings? That would be warmer.'

‘Look,' Lindsey said, ‘I've been thinking about this. I'm up to my eyes at work, and what with various other things' (
such as Dominic
), ‘I honestly haven't the time to give this the consideration it deserves. Added to which, I've not an artistic bone in my body. What I'd really like is to give you completely free rein, so I can just come back in a few weeks' time, and admire the fait accompli. Is that OK with you?'

‘Certainly, if you're really sure?'

‘Oh, I am!' Lindsey breathed a sigh of relief: one less thing to worry about. ‘Now, can I get you a coffee or anything, before you start?'

‘No, thanks, we're fine.'

Lindsey watched them for a few minutes as they set about measuring walls, fireplace and windows. Then she sat down on the sofa, picked up one of the pattern books, and idly flicked through it. ‘I'd be hopeless at making up my mind,' she commented. ‘Any of these would be great.'

Further measuring was done on the landing and in both bedrooms.

‘What about furniture?' Nicole asked, as she put away the tape.

‘Again, I leave it to you. Something modern, in keeping with the flat.'

‘This is going to be fun!' Nina said. ‘So what kind of figure are we aiming at?'

Lindsey named one. ‘Will that give you enough scope?'

‘More than enough, since you qualify for mates' rates. So, we'll mull it over during the next few days, then send you a set of plans, with suggested wall covering, soft furnishings, etc. Your bedroom would benefit from built-in furniture, instead of those large, free-standing pieces. There are some very pretty designs around.'

‘Sounds good,' Lindsey said. ‘When can you start?'

‘Fairly soon, once you've OK'd the suggestions and removed what's to be sold. Aren't you keeping any of the furniture?'

‘Only that little bureau, which I love. Hugh's coming to look over the rest, before it goes under the hammer.'

‘How is Hugh? It's a while since I've seen him, though David met him for a drink last week.'

‘He's fine,' Lindsey said briefly.

Nicole flicked her a glance. ‘And the enigmatic Dominic?'

‘Also fine.'

She laughed. ‘I get the message! Well, regards to both of them, as and when appropriate. And we'll be in touch within a day or two.'

‘Coast clear?' Hugh asked, smiling at her from the doorstep.

‘Coast clear,' she confirmed. ‘Come on up.'

He followed her up the stairs, and, as always, she was intensely and infuriatingly aware of him. The attraction between them was as strong and vibrant as ever, even though love – at least on her part – had long since departed. It had, in fact, led to her spending a night with him back in the summer, a totally irresponsible act that had given him false hopes.

‘So,' she said a little breathlessly, as she led the way into the sitting-room, ‘take your pick.'

He looked about him. ‘You're chucking the lot?'

‘Apart from the bureau and the odd picture. Let's face it, Hugh, it doesn't owe me anything, and it was, after all, bought for an entirely different house.'

‘Well, you've seen my place, so you'll appreciate space is limited. I've always liked that clock, though, if you're determined to get rid of it?'

‘You're welcome. Feel free to wander round while I get us a drink, and see what interests you. Whisky and water?'

‘Please.'

Hands in pockets he began a slow perambulation of the room, pausing occasionally to study a picture or lift an ornament. Lindsey, pouring the drinks, watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to analyse what it was about him that still lit fires inside her. He wasn't conventionally good-looking, with his lean, pale face and red hair, but there was an indefinable magnetism about him that still pulled at her, however hard she might resist.

‘I could make use of the coffee table,' he remarked, taking the glass she handed him. ‘And the bookcase, come to that. It'll be a squeeze, but I could just about fit them in, if you're sure. And perhaps the Venetian picture, for auld lang syne.'

Lindsey flushed, avoiding his eye. It was a painting they'd bought on their honeymoon.

‘Oh, and the clock, of course. That's about it. How much do you want for them?'

She looked startled. ‘Oh, I didn't—'

‘Nonsense; they were part of your settlement when we split, so you should be recompensed. And,' he added, as she started to protest, ‘I'll only take them on that condition.'

‘But I've not the faintest idea what they're worth,' she objected, hating the thought that a spontaneous offer had turned commercial.