“It would have been helpful if you had left them where they were… darling.”
A kiss on the back of my head-where I couldn’t feel it, let alone see it. “Ellie, you know I can’t stand clutter. I was brought up to be orderly.”
“And I was brought up to dislike mildewed drawers.”
The Heinz did a swerving figure eight. Relaxing my hold on the steering wheel, I turned to Ann. “Speaking of Ben reminds me-mind if I stop in at Mr. Wiseman’s office? Ben wants him to check some point on the lease.” We were vibrating down Cliff Road. The sea below was dark as malt liquor, its white head foaming into great spills.
“Of course not, Ellie!”
Something in her voice made me glance sideways, but I couldn’t read her face because of the glasses.
“I can as well go tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t think of it; I know you and Ben are down to the wire where the restaurant is concerned.”
Teddy Peerless was pegging away at a fantastic clip upon a medieval typewriter, her projecting teeth clamped on her lower lip in concentration, as we entered the outer office of Bragg, Wiseman & Smith. In a corner of the book-lined room near the window a green and crimson parrot strutted and squawked in its cage.
“Greetings from your king, pretty damsels!” That was the parrot.
Teddy stopped typing. She rose, tugging the ends of her beige cardigan, and jabbed a comb more securely into her birds-nest hair. She was introducing us to Flinders, the parrot, when Lionel Wiseman came through the door. Some men have the knack of making an entrance-even I, a comfortably married woman, acknowledged that. Pressing my fingers, he thanked me for coming in about the lease. I found myself a little captivated by his deskside manner, the deep timbre of his voice, his impressive height and broad shoulders, his crisp, silvery hair glinting in the light from Teddy’s lamp, but, needless to say, only in the way I would have been captivated by a handsome piece of furniture. I pictured Lionel Wiseman’s first meeting with Bunty, imagining him leaning over the theatre balcony rail, deciding he wanted the second girl from the left in the chorus line, the blonde with the legs that went from here to eternity.
Releasing me from his intent dark gaze, he gave me back my hand and said he would sort out the lease quibble. I was sure he would. Teddy was at the file cabinet plucking out a yellow folder. She was saying something about the weather to Ann, who was sinking slowly into a chair, her face the colour of moonlight against her dark glasses. Teddy dropped the folder and pressed Ann’s head down toward her knees. Lionel strode over to them; concern made him even more handsome.
“Mrs. Delacorte, let me fetch you a brandy, or ring for a doctor.”
“I’m perfectly all right.” Ann grew, if possible, paler.
A question mark took shape in my mind. Was there more here than met the eye? I had sensed an antagonism between Ann and Bunty at The Dark Horse. Had Lionel botched some legal matter for the Delacortes or (I studied his Saville Row suit) sent them an exhorbitant fee for services rendered?
Ann, truthfully or otherwise, blamed her dizzy spell upon Flinders, saying in a faint voice, “Silly of me, but I thought he was going to peck me through the bars.”
I offered to take her directly home, but she insisted the zesty sea air was what she needed. So we said our goodbyes and drove along Coast Road through Pebblewell to Snaresby. There we got out and walked, coming almost immediately upon a little tucked-away shop which sold china doorknobs. I found one with enamelled bluebells. Perfect for the ground floor reception room at Abigail’s. Afterward I pressed Ann to stop at the cafe next door for tea. As we sat sipping away, I strayed the conversation back to her fainting attack.
“It was nothing to do with Mr. Wiseman.” She was quite definite. Too definite? She twisted her cup around in her saucer. “Ellie, do you recall my telling you that several people have hinted that Charles is having an affair?”
“You told me you didn’t believe it,” I replied.
“I didn’t, but this morning I received a letter signed A Friend, informing me that I am a wronged wife.”
“Did it look like a form letter?”
Ann smiled. “Do you think it could be that sort of thing, Ellie?”
“Absolutely.” As it happened, I was speaking the truth. I could not imagine Charles Delacorte thawing out long enough to start an affair.
Ann spread her fingers and looked down at them. “Charles and I… He never was very keen, you know; he always said”-she twirled the necklace at her throat-“that sex was… untidy.”
“I see.” I blushed.
“It could have been worse, I suppose.” Ann tried to smile. “The note could have said, ‘Your husband is carrying on with another man.’ ” Now it was her turn for her eyes to avoid mine. Was I missing something? My eyes fixed on a man with an abundance of glossy black curls seated at the corner table. Mr. Daffy? Yes, but a drastically changed Mr. Daffy. Pale, hollow-cheeked, thin. Or was it that all the stuffing seemed to have gone out of him? He saw me looking at him, but instead of bouncing out of the chair and foisting his relentless sales technique on me, he actually shrank back in his chair, his ripe olive eyes growing dull. So this is what I got for refusing to sell Merlin’s Court! After a minute, he walked slowly over to the table.
“Well, well, ladies. Fancy seeing you here! You weren’t looking for me by any chance, were you?” He was inching backward as he spoke.
“No, I’m afraid not.” I felt guilty about it.
“Good, good.” His face broke into a trembling smile. “I’ve been having these odd notions recently that I’m being followed, that… the bloodhounds are after me, closing in.” He wiped a hand across his sticky brow. “All nonsense, of course. But I think I’ll see my doctor, get a tonic. Here, let me give you another of my cards.” He dropped one in my hand, as if it were hot, and virtually fled out the door.
We were on the outskirts of Pebblewell when I noticed the first beading of moisture on the windscreen. In seconds water sheeted down, puddling in our laps. And, to make matters worse, the road kept getting narrower until it looked like a smoker’s breath. A glance over the stupidly low wall to my left showed waves far below, whipped by the wind into a spiteful froth, encouraging me to drive as straight a course as possible. Minutes later, seeing became the number one problem. Heinz scraped against the wall, which now seemed to be on my right. Add to that our feet being underwater and I had to agree with Ann that it might be wise to pull over and wait out the deluge. But pull over which way? Right meant running up the side of the cliff; left meant going over the sea wall. Time out for a moment of prayer.
Miraculously, the gusting wind lifted my hair away from my eyes and through the downpour I espied two towering pillars. Affixed to one was an unreadable sign board. The essential point was that between them ran a steepish track, pathway, lane, whatever.
“Mind if we pull in here?” I asked.
Ann removed her hat, shook it free of water and replaced it. “I’d mind if you didn’t.”
Not trusting Heinz to stay parked on an incline, I drove up the short rise. We were in an avenue, darkened to heavy shadow by the thick overhead branches. Rain drummed against the windscreen. Turning off the engine, I wiped my face on my soggy coat sleeve and apologised to Ann for bringing her to this pass.
“Ellie, really-this makes an interesting interlude in my uneventful life.” Her lips smiled serenely but her eyes were hidden by rain-spattered glasses.
“I wonder where we are?”
Ann lifted the glasses to her forehead then lowered them, without looking round. “Sorry, Ellie, I’m quite useless when it comes to getting my bearings.”
I glanced around. This avenue was undoubtedly pleasant at times, but now the sea was muffled to a soft, ominous stomping.
Never mind, we were about to get out of here! To my joy, I could count the raindrops landing on my upturned palm. A cheery word to Ann, a flick of the ignition key, a trounce on the accelerator, and… Nothing.