‘She wouldn’t have been offered the wine, I’m sure. She’s far too young. Most of us stick to soft drinks, anyway. Pressed fruit in various flavours.’
‘That’s restrained for a bunch of artists.’
She laughed. ‘This is rural Sussex, my dear, not Soho in the sixties.’
‘But you don’t expect to stay sober at a party, do you?’
‘Personally, I can get high on good company and music, but I can’t speak for everyone. A few I could name knock it back, but I’ll spare their blushes. We’re all rather hyped up by the end of the evening.’
‘Does anyone do drugs?’
Drusilla laughed. ‘Good God, you are a suspicious policeman. Get that idea straight out of your head. I wouldn’t have anything to do with drugs, I assure you, and neither would most of the others — including Manny, who learned his lesson the hard way.’
‘But you just said by the end of the evening...’
‘I meant something much more innocent. Haven’t you ever been to a pop concert? Just listening to the music gives me an adrenalin surge. Coming back to young Ella, I saw Ferdie taking her a glass of fruit juice.’
‘When you say Ferdie...?’
‘Tom’s father, the unofficial barman. It’s thanks to his generosity that we come here at all.’
‘So you didn’t see Mel that night. You’re certain Ella was the only girl from Priory Park who showed up?’
‘You’d better ask around if you doubt me. Ella’s the only one I saw.’
His theory was looking shaky. He didn’t get a chance to ask around because the model had just stepped up to the dais again and people were back behind their easels.
‘I’m ducking out of this session,’ he told Drusilla. ‘I’ve done all I can.’
He glanced across at Georgina. With her easel in a prime position, she would find it impossible to extract herself without everyone noticing. Stuck between the clergyman and a tall man making slashing movements with a palette knife, she looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else on the planet.
But Diamond escaped.
As if in sync with him, a wintry sun emerged from behind the clouds, throwing shadows and patches of bright green across the landscaped estate. What better than fresh air and exercise? Well, there was something better if the exercise had a purpose. Somewhere was the lake Ella had spoken about and that he’d speculated would be the ideal place to set up her lobster-pot House of Usher. Ella was a useful contact. With time in hand before lunch, the least he could do was to check. Down a gentle slope to the left was a beech copse turning gold. Logic suggested the lowest point on the landscape where the wooded area flourished would be where the lake was sited. He started walking.
One thing he hadn’t expected until he got close and felt it underfoot was a gravel driveway running directly across the lawn, not so much in the direction of the copse as off to the right. From the size of the tracks it appeared to be in use by heavier traffic than cars. He couldn’t at first understand why. There was nothing worth driving towards, just the tall brick wall that bounded the garden. Then he noticed a point where the wall angled sharply inwards and formed a square-shaped enclosure, presumably a walled garden. He wouldn’t have picked it out from the background unless he’d asked himself where the road headed. Now it made sense. He could just see the roofs of buildings inside the walls that evidently housed the orchid collection. The driveway across the lawn would be needed to transport the orchids by van to the main drive.
His thoughts moved quickly from orchids to lobster pots. How simple it would be for the Standforths to transport Ella’s House of Usher from the school to its new location by the lake — provided they liked his suggestion.
He crossed the drive and continued down the slope. Before reaching the copse he saw the gleam of water between tree trunks. All doubt was removed when a pair of mute swans glided across. He picked his way down a steeper incline and reached the bank where the water lapped. He was impressed. Two hundred to two-fifty metres to the far side, he estimated. The depth was anyone’s guess, but this was much more than a pond. In his estimation it qualified as a lake. The dark reeds at the edges would blend in superbly with Ella’s creation.
No question: it would pass for Edgar Allan Poe’s sinister tarn.
The find was pleasing. There hadn’t been much to celebrate lately. He stood a little longer, enjoying the view, thinking if Tom and Ella agreed he would have contributed to a small success.
In the act of turning to go back, he spotted a movement on the far side. The lake almost lapped the wall there, but a narrow path existed because someone was walking slowly from right to left.
Impossible to tell if it was male or female. Well covered in black beanie hat, brown overcoat and trousers. Not particularly tall and moving in a preoccupied way, with head down and arms folded. Maybe one of the artists had got the same idea as he, and escaped. Whoever it was hadn’t seen him and was too far off to hail, or wave to, so he turned and retraced his route.
24
Diamond had plenty on his mind as he toiled up the slope towards the house so perhaps it was excusable that he failed to spot Georgina striding towards him.
She was not at her most sunny. ‘What do you think you’re playing at?’
‘Didn’t see you coming, ma’am.’
‘Answer me, Peter.’
‘I went for a walk.’
‘Went for a walk in the middle of the session, when everyone else was in the studio?’
‘It goes completely silent when the drawing starts, and that’s useless to us. Can’t talk to anyone, can’t overhear other people talking. So I stepped outside. A chance to look round.’
‘With what result?’
‘I found the lake.’
Her eyes rolled upwards. ‘Have we ever discussed a lake?’
‘You and I? No. Young Ella needs it for her A level extended project. She also needs transport and I think there’s a chance of getting some.’
Georgina looked ready to strangle him. ‘Have you gone soft in the head? You’re not here at the beck and call of schoolgirls. You’re assisting me in a serious investigation.’
‘Point taken,’ he said in the same untroubled tone. ‘I’m on the case. I need to persuade Ella I’m on her side. A rather odd incident happened at the party that she hasn’t told us about. She started behaving as if she was drunk or drugged and Tom Standforth led her away.’
‘Where to?’
‘Don’t know yet.’
‘Did he take advantage of her?’
‘That’s not a question I can answer yet. I doubt if Tom will tell me, but if I win Ella’s confidence, I might get it from her.’
‘Who told you this — about Tom taking her off somewhere?’
‘Drusilla. One of the artists.’
She frowned. ‘That is disturbing.’
‘If true, yes. Drusilla is a vocal lady. These things can grow in the telling.’
‘There’s a danger here of getting sidetracked. Even if you discover the truth, how does it help us find the missing schoolgirl?’
‘Get Ella talking and she might tell me more about Mel.’
Georgina didn’t, after all, strangle him. She didn’t even grab him by the throat. His explanation may have caused her to reflect a little. She sounded slightly reassured. ‘So you’re going to speak to her now?’
‘When I can prise her away from the others. She won’t open up while they’re around.’
‘You haven’t got long. They’re still in the studio, I believe. It’s a short break for lunch.’
He needed no better cue to escape from Georgina. ‘I’ll get straight to it, then.’
She nodded, and then announced in a voice that didn’t encourage debate, ‘I shan’t be doing any more art myself. Charcoal is a messy medium.’