I'll Be There Page 19

  Recognition flared in Linda’s eyes when she glanced across the room, and then her face was averted. A snub from her own sister! Her face began to burn. She was not going to let Linda get away with it.

  Toulouse Lautrec came to stand next to her. ‘Excellent ... just excellent ... you’re very talented.’

  ‘Not as talented as you, sir.’ Janey said absently. ‘None of the Mistral paintings will ever rival At the Moulin Rouge.’

  ‘Quite so,’ he said drily. ‘Am I to take that to mean you’ve read my humble reviews?’

  Devlin dug her gently in the ribs and said, sounding highly amused, ‘Wake up Janey. Perhaps I should introduce you two. Mistral, meet Caleb Price. Art critic.’

  ‘The art critic!’ She was laughing as she turned his way. ‘It’s lovely to meet you ... and yes I have read your reviews. Devlin’s determined to educate me about the art world and made me read them. I wouldn’t quite describe them as humble though. You were vitriolic about Van Flemming’s work.’

  Caleb’s grin revealed a row of small, shark-like teeth. ‘I’ll regard that as a compliment. Anyone who paints as badly as him is masquerading as an artist. You, on the other hand, show great promise. Who did you study under?’

  I took some night school classes for a couple of years, and when I was child ...’ and she gave Devlin a quick glance. ‘I was taught by my father, John Gregory.’

  Devlin gave a quick intake of breath and she slid her hand into his, gently squeezing it in apology. She wondered why her father hadn’t contacted her. Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to forgive her. This public acknowledgement was one small step to compensate him for all those years in prison.

  ‘A competent artist in his field with a limited collector appeal, Caleb was saying. ‘I haven’t seen anything fresh of his on the market lately.’

  ‘He hasn’t been well. He lives quietly in the country now.’ She’d go to him soon – her father. She’d ask his forgiveness, and somehow she’d find a way to make his life whole again.’

  She excused herself and drifted to Linda’s side. ‘They pecked the air at either side of the other’s cheek. ‘How’s Justin? You much bring him to see me one day,’ Janey said.

  Linda hissed, ‘What are you doing here?’

  Beginning to enjoy herself Janey raised her eyebrow. ‘Why on earth shouldn’t I be here?’

  Devlin appeared from nowhere to kiss her cheek. ‘Would you come over here, darling? The press wants a photograph of you with Caleb Price.’

  When the photo session was over there was a shriek from the door. ‘Daaahling! Dion and Stephen bustled forward, all satin shirts and afro hairstyles. Each hugged her in return.

  ‘Love your hair, don’t you Stephen?’ Dion said.

  ‘She looks absolutely fabulous.’ Stephen didn’t bother pausing for breath, ‘Guess who we ran into ... such a surprise.’

  ‘I wanted to tell her that.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a baby, Dion. It’s Sandy Carter ... she’s got a small part in The Mousetrap.’

  ‘You must bring Sandy with you tonight. See if she’d got a couple of girlfriends to even things up.’ Devlin took her by the elbow and steered her away.

  She grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter on the way past. ‘What’s going on tonight?’

  ‘It was going to be a small surprise party for you. Tim’s in town and Griff has managed a night off.’

  ‘You’re a darling, Devlin.’

  ‘Yes ... I know.’

  They almost collided with Sarah Wyman. Linda was one step behind.

  Devlin pulled on his sincere face. ‘Have you met Mistral, Sarah?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ A pair of eyes checked her out, like wasps at an apple core. Without turning she said to Linda, ‘Go and fetch me a glass of champagne, Linda, there’s a dear.’

  Giving the simpering smile she’d perfected as a child, Linda hurried off to do as she’d been bid.’

  ‘I understand that you’re Linda’s sister.’

  Linda had obviously decided that association by fame was perfectly acceptable. ‘We share a mother.’

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wondered at the lack of similarity.’

  In case she chose to think differently she made it absolutely clear. ‘Linda and I are nothing alike.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘I might buy one of your paintings. Which would you recommend?’

  ‘Thorns.’

  ‘Go and buy me Thorns’ she said when Linda came back with her champagne.

  Sarah Wyman was flaunting her power over Linda, deliberately humiliating her. Although there was no love lost between them as sisters, Janey didn’t like it,

  She took Linda by the hand and turned to Devlin. ‘Would you attend to Mrs. Wymark personally please, I’d like to talk to my sister.’

  ‘Use my office if you like, but don’t be too long because there is still some people I’d like you to meet.’

  ‘Why do you allow that woman to treat you like a servant?’

  Linda shrugged. ‘Martin has set up an office in London. She’s helping us meet the right people.’ She stared at the painting on the wall. ‘I had no idea you were Mistral.’

  ‘You never bothered to ask how I support myself, before.’ Her head slanted to one side as she gazed at her sister. ‘You look well. Is Justin in London with you, and your husband ... I’d really like to meet them both.’

  ‘Justin’s in Bournemouth; he has a nanny.’

  ‘Do you have a photograph with you?’

  Linda took a photo of a pale looking infant from her purse. ‘Keep it.’

  There was a helpless, forlorn look to Justin that stirred the pot of pity in Janey. ‘He looks so sweet.’

  ‘He’s a brat,’ Linda said.

  And Linda was a cold-hearted bitch. ‘Has your father improved at all?’

  ‘He can move his hand a bit and mumble a few words.’ Her face adopted a martyred expression. ‘I still can’t believe Pamela walked out and left him as soon as he became ill.’

  ‘It was because she could. Why don’t you look after Justin yourself; it would save paying a nanny.’

  Linda shuddered. ‘With my weak stomach. The last time I picked him up he vomited on me. Besides, he cries all the time and I can’t stand it. ‘She stood, saying casually, ‘I really must get back to Sarah. She wants me to help her dress for a dinner party.’

  ‘Has she lost the use of her arms or is she practicing to be a countess?’

  ‘You just don’t understand.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ She bit back the urge to tell Linda to just be herself when she realized her sister was being herself. They had very little in common. ‘If you ever need me ...’

  ‘I can’t imagine why I should.’ Linda’s eyes speculated on her for a moment, and then she managed a smile that was notable for its insincerity. ‘Thanks anyway.’

  * * * *

  An hour later and the gallery closed to the public. Devlin was jubilant. ‘A sell out, and a photograph to go in the paper with Caleb Price’s review! You’ve made it, babe.’

  Janey kicked off her shoes, subsided into a chair and rubbed her toes against the back of her ankles. ‘How much am I worth Devlin?’

  A frown replaced his smile. ‘I haven’t calculated what today’s little lot will bring in.’

  ‘Totally, I mean.’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Why have I needed to ask?’

  ‘You’re right.’ He took her hands in hers and drew her upright, kissing her lightly on the nose. ‘I’ll have a detailed statement drawn up for you as soon as I’ve got some spare time. Let’s go.’

  ‘Yes let’s, I want to climb out of this shroud before the party.’

  * * * *

  Devlin had prepared trays of finger food for the party, and plenty of them.

  Griff and Tim arrived at the same time and they both dashed up to see Saffy before she was put to bed.

  ‘I thought you came to see me,’ she grumbled when they came down.


  Tim swept her up in his arms and kissed her.

  Sandy poked her in the ribs. ‘Introduce me to the sailor.’

  ‘Introduce yourself.’ Janey abandoned Tim and surrendered to Griff’s hug. His smell carried the faint tang of hospital disinfectant with it. ‘You look better than you did the last time I saw you?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll try and stay awake this time.’ He gently nipped her earlobe, surprising her.

  It was a lovely party. Devlin was a perfect host, their guests were well behaved though everyone got tipsy enough to lose a few inhibitions. One by one they fell asleep where they dropped.

  Devlin’s gaze roamed over them. Tim was on the couch, his arms circling Sandy and Blaise, who snuggled against his chest. ‘Typical bloody sailor,’ he muttered.

  Dion and Stephen were stretched out on the floor. He took a smouldering joint from between Stephen’s fingers and stubbed it out before he burst into flames.’

  His gaze moved on. ‘Griff was in the armchair. Janey leaned precariously against his knees, her hair a fall of silvery gold. His glance lit on Griff. There seemed to be a bond between the pair, almost like brother and sister.

  ‘Bed for you, princess.’ He picked her up and carried her upstairs. She didn’t stir when he pulled the covers over her and pressed a kiss against her forehead. ‘Don’t think I’m going to let you go without a fight. I’m going to make myself so indispensable that you won’t be able to live without me.

  She turned on her side, drew her knees up and whispered sleepily. ‘Goodnight Griff.’

  * * * *

  When Mary finished reading the article she cut it from the paper. ‘I’m going to show this to Jack the next time I visit.’

  ‘He told you not to interfere.’

  ‘It’s not interfering if it’s in the paper; it’s public knowledge. She told the whole world that he’s her father.’

  Douglas sighed as he took her hands in his. ‘This is a private matter between them. You can’t push your way into people’s lives like this. I forbid you to mention this to Jack. In fact – I would rather you not go down there for a while.’

  ‘If I didn’t he wouldn’t eat.’

  ‘Then let him starve. Jack’s a grown man. If you stopped babysitting him he’d have to fend for himself.’

  ‘I never thought you’d turn against him.’

  ‘Oh ... for God’s sake!’ Throwing the paper aside Douglas rose to his feet. ‘Not one day has gone past over the last few years when I haven’t been force fed your brother’s troubles. I’m old. I want to enjoy the time I’ve got left.’ He slammed the door as he left.

  Tears filled Mary’s eyes as she watched him walk across the garden. He was right. She should leave Jack to fend for himself. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have transport. His car was in working order, Douglas had seen to that.

  Later, she took a cup of tea and biscuits to the shed. ‘You’re right ... I’m sorry.’

  Douglas took her hand and held it against his cheek. ‘It will work out for the best. Love. Just you wait and see.’

  * * * *

  When Mary didn’t come with his shopping Jack thought she might be sick. He left it for a couple of days, living off baked beans, stale bread and fruit from the garden.

  When she didn’t come the following week he began to worry, and wished he’d had the telephone connected. He supposed it was time to do something about it, though the village shop was now closed, a victim of the supermarkets that were beginning to sprout up everywhere.

  A couple of days later his larder was empty, and he was hungry. Heart leaping in panic he made his way to the front door, where Douglas had left the car keys on the hook. He didn’t even know if he could still drive.

  His fingers trembled so much that he dropped the keys. They slid across the tiles and under the hallstand. Kneeling, he scrabbled about in the dust. A folded piece of paper came out with the keys.

  He unfolded the note, smoothing it out on his knee.

  Dear Mr. Bellamy.... Father.

  It was from Janey. Jack squeezed his eyes shut for a moment or two.

  I’m sorry I missed you. If you’d care to write or telephone me I’d be happy to hear from you. PS. You have a granddaughter called Saffron (Saffy for short).

  The note was date-marked six months previously.

  All that time wasted. He burst into tears. He’d been stupid hiding indoors and wallowing in self-pity. From now on he must learn to cope with life outside and become a father Janey could be proud of.

  After a while his tears stopped and he began to smile. He rose to his feet and threw open the door to the cottage. The air smelled clean and fresh as it poured into his lungs. He’d forgotten how cleansing light was. Eyes narrowed against its glare he took his first stumbling steps outside in months – out of the darkness and into the light.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Charles told me you have some puppies needing a home.’

  ‘Aye, I have that, the poor little buggers were dumped on the main road.’ Phil stood to one side to allow John Smith into the cottage.

  Gazing at the sleeping pups John raised an eyebrow. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Can’t rightly tell,’ Phil said comfortably. ‘Like most of us, they didn’t come with a pedigree.’

  Grey eyes battled with black ones for a few seconds. Neither won.

  ‘I meant gender, Mister Tyler.’

  ‘Titles don’t sit easy with me. The name’s Phil.’ Phil grinned as he held out his hand, leaving John with the uncomfortable feeling he’d seen right through him.

  ‘John.’ A small, abashed smile inched across his face. ‘I’ve never owned a dog.’

  ‘These are bitches.’

  ‘I’ve never own a bitch, either.’

  ‘Phil chuckled. ‘The kettle’s on the boil, I’ll make us some tea. The black-eared one is Gypsy. She belongs to Susie up at the big house but is boarding with me for the time being.’

  ‘So, I can have my choice of the other two?’

  ‘One will chose you when they wake. The other is destined for Jack Bellamy. His dog died last year and he’ll be needing another.’

  ‘He’s the recluse up at Canford Cottage?’

  ‘You don’t miss much, do you?’ Phil set a mug of thick brown liquid down in front of him. ‘There’s some who value privacy more than others.’

  ‘And some who have more to hide?’

  ‘Aye.’ John was subject to a long uncomfortable stare. ‘Perhaps they figure their business belongs to themselves. To my way of thinking, that man got more than he deserved.’

  Intrigued, John stared back at him. He knew about the case. Charles had discussed it with him when he’d enquired about buying Canford Cottage. He’d suggested that Jack Bellamy might have been used as a scapegoat. Strange that two different men should be of like mind.

  The victim had been a young village girl who’d subsequently lost her memory of the event. He couldn’t remember reading about it in the papers.

  ‘It was you who found the girl, wasn’t it?’

  Phil’s body became as still as stone. ‘Aye, me and my son. I said my piece at the trial, and can see no reason to repeat it to an outsider.’

  ‘An outsider could present an unbiased viewpoint because he lacks emotional involvement,’ John said just as bluntly. ‘You should consider that before you make snap judgments.’

  ‘Could be I should. I’ll think on it.’

  Prickly customer, John thought, and as closed as an oyster. Suddenly uncomfortable, he realized that Phil was assessing his worth and was relieved when the puppies decided to wake.

  One immediately tried to clamber up his leg, peeing excitedly on his shoe in the process. When he lifted her to his lap, she stood against his chest, aiming high-pitched yelps into his ear.

  ‘Stop nagging,’ he said, beginning to grin as the dog leaped up and down, trying to lick his chin.

  Phil chuckled. ‘She’s the liveliest one of the three. She’ll nee
d a lot of exercise, but you look as though you could do with some yourself.’

  The yelps changed into short yaps as the puppy attacked the buttons on his cardigan. He turned her over on her back and tickled her belly. ‘I’ll call you Nellie, after Melba, the opera singer.’

  ‘I’ll be helping Jack Bellamy set his cottage to rights in the morning,’ Phil said as he escorted him to the gate. ‘Drop over in a day or so and meet him?’

  So he hadn’t been found wanting, after all. He smiled as he met Phil’s enigmatic glance square on, both knowing he would.

  There was a mystery here. A horrendous crime had been committed in this sleepy little village. Mistakes weren’t usually made when bringing a criminal to justice. The act of rape, especially when involving a child, was highly emotive. People were uncomfortable with it, and it would have been dealt with as quickly as possible.

  It struck him as odd that the perpetrator of the crime would come back to live in the place where it had been committed – very odd!

  He stopped for a moment at the village store to pick up some cans of dog food and a loaf of bread. When he reached home he installed Nellie on a cushion in a cardboard box, and said, ‘You’ll have to wait until I go into town before you get a more luxurious bed.’ He went through to the lounge and dialed a number in London.

  Within five minutes he had the information he sought.

  ‘Jane Renfrew again,’ he whispered, shaken to the core as he gazed at the painting of the lilies. It was almost as if fate had thrown them together. For what purpose; so he could investigate the crime? Jack Bellamy had been convicted on circumstantial evidence, and the trail was cold. All the same ... he didn’t like unsolved mysteries.

  The next morning, he took the early train to London.

  * * * *

  Jack had barely begun to prise the boards from the windows when Phil Tyler arrived.

  ‘You look like a man in need of companionship, and I’ve got a pup who needs a good home. Her name’s Daisy.’

  Jack stared at him for a second, not knowing quite what to do.

  The plank of wood in his hands was exchanged for a fat brown puppy. ‘Nice day for it,’ Phil said. ‘Where do you want the wood stacked?’