A Place Of Safety(80)

‘That’s more like it. I was wondering where the real Louise had gone for a minute.’

‘So.’ She crossed to the drinks table. ‘What’ll you have?’

‘Don’t care. Just make it strong.’

‘Jameson’s?’

‘The very man.’ He watched her rattling around in the ice bucket. Observed her cast-down face, noticed the slight thickening under her chin, hollowed cheeks and tired lines, which he had never noticed before, printing the fine skin beneath her eyes. Poor Lou. She hadn’t asked for any of this.

‘So, as we seem to be playing house, what did you do today, Mrs Forbes?’

‘Well,’ Louise drew a deep breath like a child about to recite in front of the grown-ups, ‘I worked in the garden. Made several phone calls - putting out feelers for work. This afternoon I went to Causton and had my ends trimmed.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘They give you some coffee afterwards.’

‘I’d need an anaesthetic first.’

‘What about you?’

‘I didn’t garden. I made no phone calls. And my ends are absolute hell.’

‘Come on, Val. You must have done something.’

‘Looked over the proofs of the Hopscotch Kid. Messed about generally. Then Jax rang around three and I went over.’

‘Uh huh.’ Louise took a deep breath. ‘How is he then, Jax?’

‘Fighting fit.’

‘So you had a good time?’

‘Brilliant.’

‘Good. Actually when I was in Causton, I—’

‘Until the bloody police turned up.’

‘Oh? What did they want?’

‘What do they ever want? Bullying him with endless questions. Once you’ve slipped up in this country, Lou, you’re done for. It’s a waste of time even trying to go straight. I didn’t used to believe that. I thought it was just criminals, you know, whining. But it’s true.’

‘What a shame it’s happening now.’ Louise gagged on the words but somehow managed to squeeze them out. ‘Being down here, well away from the sort of people who got him into trouble, could have given him a completely new start.’

‘Exactly!’ Valentine drained half the Irish in one swallow. ‘I don’t have much time for Lionel, as you know, but his idea of sanctuary for youngsters in trouble is really great.’

Youngsters? That man was never a youngster. Cunning like his is as old as the hills.

‘I think I’ll join you.’ Casually Louise turned away to pour herself a drink. She knew it would be a mistake to show how pleased she was at the way the conversation was progressing. And an even bigger one to try and build on it. She said, ‘I got a partridge for tonight.’

‘Lovely.’ Val drained his glass and walked over. ‘You could freshen my drink.’

‘You haven’t got a drink.’ Louise laughed, letting go a little with relief at the first hurdle cleared.

‘My ice cubes then.’

After she had refilled the glass, Valentine carried it across the room, flung himself onto the huge pale sofa and put his feet up. He already looked slightly less tired. His face was smoothing out. As he stretched his legs and flexed his toes, Louise sensed a quickening of vitality. Could it really be possible that a few transparent lies on her part could accomplish such a transformation? Lies which his sharp intelligence would normally see straight through?

It seemed so. Oh, why hadn’t she realised months ago how hard her fear and dislike of Jax had been for her brother to handle? Even obsessives have moments of clarity and it must have seemed to Val that she had withdrawn her love and support just when he needed it the most. If only she had made allowances for his irrational state of mind. Listened more sympathetically. Bided her time. But, because there had never been pretence between them, this had simply not occurred to her. Not until now, when it was too late.

‘Sorry, Val.’ The sound of his voice had registered but not the words.

‘I cut you off when we were talking before. Something or other happened in Causton?’

‘Oh, yes. You’ll never guess who—’

But then the telephone rang. And after the call it was impossible to continue that or any other conversation. The terrible news about Ann Lawrence not only stopped Louise’s mouth but was so devastating in the light of what she had been about to relate that it almost stopped her heart as well.





‘Are you all right, Lionel?’

‘What?’

‘How do you feel? I mean, really?’

‘I’m not sure.’

It was a good question. Very perceptive. How did he feel, really? He knew how he ought to feel. And perhaps, if Ann hadn’t been so cruel to him, he would appropriately be feeling it. Frantically worried, praying to God for her recovery, dreading the heartbreak that follows the loss of a beloved spouse.