Guilt Trip Page 19

  ‘Because it is. Budget cuts.’

  ‘But a bit of – what do they call it? – joined up thinking would pull everything together.’

  ‘Look, they cut resources, they retire canny old senior officers – and that’s just the police. Local government’s on its knees, so I dare say our equivalents in Trading Standards are gasping for breath too.’ As if to demonstrate, he gave a huge yawn. ‘It’s no good: I’ve got to hit the hay.’ He literally staggered as he left the room. He held on to the door jamb as he paused to say, ‘I’ve worked out a possible timetable for you today, Lina – with luck I’ll touch base with you for lunch.’

  By the time I let myself into our room, he was sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, and didn’t even stir as I made myself ready for the punishing schedule he’d prepared.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The more I saw of the French elite in their wonderful houses, surrounded by antiques to make your mouth water, the more I understood the French Revolution. I’ve an idea that Griff, normally keen on a bit of aristocracy, at least when it came on TV in the form of Royal Weddings, was beginning to feel a bit republican himself. One consolation was that we were safe from Montaigne while we hurtled from one great house to the next to do our party pieces: the car had been changed for one with serious security, protected for good measure by seriously armed cops.

  There was no sign of Morris during these jaunts, and he texted that he had to scrub any thought of lunch. Eventually, he texted me to say he’d meet us for room service dinner at the hotel no matter what.

  The no matter what involved Leda. It seemed she was going to have a cot put up in our room. She looked very peaky and had a snotty nose, so I didn’t argue. In the event, she refused to eat the baby meal brought up early for her and took ages to settle in the cot the hotel found. The three of us ate our own supper in silence lest we disturb her. Griff tiptoed furtively out, wishing us well in a stage whisper. We retreated swiftly to bed, only to have a call to Morris’s mobile wake her. She refused point-blank to return to the cot and eventually spent the night lying between us, only stirring when Morris and I decided to try to take advantage of the huge sofa at the far end of the room. Something – probably to do with the genes Pa had wished on me – told me that parenthood was decidedly overrated. Not, of course, that it was even certain that Morris was a parent: Penny and her new partner were still agitating for a DNA test. In their shoes I’d just have gone ahead and got one – not very hard to do, after all – but perhaps they were afraid that it would confirm that Morris really was Leda’s father. As for me, nocturnal activities apart, I quite liked her, but someone had really let her table manners go to pot, and her breakfast, in the form of croissant and apricot conserve, turned out to be a really tricky thing to get out of a designer suit.

  Just as I was afraid that Griff, who’d joined us in our room, was going to explode, the regular nanny arrived, accompanied by a really sweet-looking policewoman with a nifty little gun, and Leda was taken off to nursery. If it hadn’t been so early, I swear we’d have reached for a bottle.

  I waited for the waiters (yes, plural) to finish clearing the debris before turning to Morris. ‘Now what? This divvying business is all very well, but surely you and your colleagues have got more than enough evidence by now. It’s time to get back to normal – ordinary pots, ordinary clothes, ordinary food.’

  ‘She’s worried about the amount of cholesterol I’m packing in,’ Griff said.

  ‘Aren’t you?’ I asked sharply.

  ‘Sweet one, if they’re spending all this time hunting round my cardiovascular system, I’m sure two or three days’ indulgence in haute cuisine isn’t going to make much difference.’

  Morris took my hand. ‘So are you worrying about wearing out your gift?’

  ‘To be honest, I’ve been doing what any other dealer would do – looking for clues. So I don’t feel entirely honest.’

  ‘Nonsense. I didn’t mention your divvying at any point, just your expertise.’

  ‘Including my restoration work? Madame le Fèvre said you’d told her not to take no for an answer.’

  ‘And did you believe her?’

  I couldn’t resist when his eyes twinkled like that. ‘I thought she was trying to con me, like Pa does. Seriously, I’d have a shot at repairing her damaged urn, but it’d mean bringing all my gear over here and staying until it was finished. Not as their house guest, either.’

  ‘I’m sure you’d be more than welcome, both of you.’

  ‘People like her would never understand that some days I could only work a couple of hours and would then have to wait while glue hardened or paint dried. Or if she did, she’d keep finding other things that needed my attention, but would expect them done as part of the original deal. So I’d insist on being a free agent.’ My smile added, with you. But my smile didn’t last long. There was Griff’s operation to factor in.

  Griff’s operation? I bit my lip. Was that another bit of divvying or a bit of observation? Whatever it was, I wanted him back home near the hospital, not dancing attendance on the whims of other people. But to reassure myself as much as anything, I added, ‘And I can’t even consider coming over till after the play. I may not be the star, but Griff is, and I’m not going to do anything to interfere with that. So they’ve got my time until the train we’ve got tickets for on Saturday.’ Assuming it’s safe to go home then, another voice added in my head.

  Griff shook his head sadly. ‘It seems so sad for my poor angel to come all this way, to the most romantic city in the world, and see nothing of it. It’s at its best in the spring, of course, but the quality of the light in the autumn is unsurpassed.’

  Morris’s face told me all I needed to know. He’d got to work. Which meant I might as well. I reached for the day’s work list.

  The only interruption to our toil – it had long ceased to be a pleasure – was a text to Griff from the hospital. They’d had a cancellation and wanted to admit him for his next test at seven thirty on Monday morning.

  ‘Say yes,’ I said. ‘Don’t even think of arguing.’

  I stood over him while he phoned to reply and take instructions I made him jot down. Empty stomach – check; an overnight case just in case – in case of what? – check; someone to drive him there and collect him – check; bed rest for the remainder of the day.

  I also picked up something else – a word I couldn’t place. ‘Angiogram?’ I said, as soon as the call was over.

  ‘It’s a look at the heart from the inside,’ he said blithely. ‘A tiny camera they insert via the groin. Just routine.’

  ‘Just routine my arse,’ I said, relying on our host not to speak that sort of English.

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Griff insisted. ‘They do dozens a week.’

  ‘But not to you,’ I said, but not out loud.

  Dear Griff pretended to be too exhausted to have supper with Morris and me on our last evening, sending us off together with an instruction to enjoy ourselves and not talk too much shop.

  ‘I still think you’d be safer here,’ Morris said as we slipped out of the hotel the unofficial way and walked hand in hand like a pair of ordinary lovers.

  ‘Have there been any problems for Pa or Mrs Walker?’ I asked.

  ‘None so far. But local officers will keep an eye on them.’

  ‘Oh, that’s reassuring,’ I jeered. ‘One community support officer on a bike every three days. That’d really scare me if I was going to harm them, I don’t think.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for the cuts,’ he said.

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ I agreed, realizing too late I was likely to ruin our precious time together. ‘What about protecting Griff and me?’

  ‘That’s different. But I’d like you to go back on Sunday, rather than tomorrow – hang the rehearsal. Just hunker down in a hotel in Ashford, next to the hospital, if necessary.’

  I squeezed his hand. ‘We’ll both have to work on Griff,’ I said.

  He drew us to a halt by
a place I’d never have noticed. ‘Only locals know about this place – guaranteed no tourists. The only downside is that the waiters will correct my pronunciation.’

  My stomach clenched. ‘You’ve eaten here before then?’ Perhaps because of Paul’s kiss, I had visions of him with an endless chain of glamorous women colleagues. Or with Penny.

  ‘Only with my colleagues to check it out. I didn’t want to land us with a turkey, as it were. And the champagne should already be on ice.’

  We’d got to the coffee stage before his phone rang. I shrugged and smiled. To my surprise, however, he slipped outside to take the call.

  I sipped slowly. Dead slowly. But then I had nothing left to drink, and my French wasn’t up to asking for more. Waiters came and went, with bigger shrugs than mine.

  Just as I was fishing out my credit card and hoping I could find my way back to the hotel, he reappeared, soaked to the skin.

  ‘It’s started to rain,’ he said, unnecessarily.

  ‘But?’ I asked, prompted by the twitching of his lips and a glow he couldn’t quite suppress.

  ‘We’ve got your old friend.’

  For a dreadful moment I thought he meant Titus Oates. I knew Freya was after him, but surely he wasn’t on Interpol’s radar.

  ‘The soi-disant Charles Montaigne.’

  ‘Ah. Wow. But before you say anything else, tell me what you meant by the words you said before “Charles Montaigne”. It’s the second time you’ve used them and—’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s the French equivalent of so-called. Now can you cheer?’

  I looked around furtively. ‘Would it be allowed in here? Actually, if it wasn’t so tiny, I could leap in the air and do handsprings! Does this mean we’re safe?’

  ‘Let’s call for the bill, and I’ll tell you all about it on the way back to the hotel.’

  ‘That means you won’t be coming into the hotel.’

  ‘Only to pack my bag to go back to England. This is one interview I really do want to be in on, Lina.’

  ‘Isn’t it against his human rights to be interviewed in the middle of the night?’

  It seemed it wasn’t. As we huddled under his umbrella, dodging puddles, he told me that thanks to information received – would I ever get used to his slipping police jargon into our conversations like that? – the so-called Montaigne had been picked up at Folkestone, trying to buy a ticket for France. ‘Silly sod didn’t realize that his car reg would be checked – and found to be false.’

  ‘Hang on – Freya knew it was. She was going to check it out.’ What the hell had she been up to?

  ‘Maybe he’d got more than one. Anyway, he’s being held in Kent, on suspicion of all sorts of fraudulent activities.’

  ‘Only fraud? A clever lawyer’ll make sure he gets bail.’

  ‘Uttering threats – that’s against you, of course. I’d like to pin the assault on your mate Paul on him too. I’m going back on the first Eurostar I can get – so if he’s lucky, your poor Monsieur Montaigne will get a night’s kip. Even if I don’t. That’s the downside. The upside is that you and Griff should be able to come back on the train you planned and resume your calm and peaceful lives in the tranquillity of the Kentish countryside,’ he added ironically.

  ‘And Griff gets to go to the rehearsal, and I get to take him to hospital on Monday. Phew.’

  ‘I’d have made sure of that, even if he’d gone with a police escort,’ he said, squeezing my hand. ‘The only thing that surprises me is that his partner didn’t cough up for immediate private treatment.’

  ‘Aidan? I’m sure he would have done, and with great pleasure – but Griff’s not giving him the whole story, any more than he is me. I can see why. Aidan’s in New Zealand, for heaven’s sake, waiting for his sister to die.’

  ‘Given a choice between a sister dying and a lover needing support, I know where I’d be.’ He kissed me.

  But what about the choice between a daughter screaming for attention and his lover needing support? I wasn’t at all sure about that. So I changed the subject with a great crunch. ‘You’ll go easy on Paul Whatshisname when you catch up with him, won’t you? He tried to warn me off – even to protect me. And look where that got him.’

  I’d pressed a policeman button again. ‘I’d really like to run him to earth. I don’t like it when people get beaten up and then disappear. Though if I’d been him I’d have scarpered, believe me. Now, are we going to talk shop all night or are we going to make the most of the next hour?’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Our cottage was still in one piece, and so were we. We quickly fell into the routine we used every time we’d been away for a fair or sale, to enable us to resume normal life as quickly as possible. There were differences, of course: hanging up the French clothes took longer than shoving T-shirts into the washing machine. Plus, instead of our usual slouch on the sofa with a sandwich, we had Morris staying with us overnight, so Griff was getting in a tizzy about feeding him properly. And tizzies were definitely off Griff’s menu.

  ‘There’s enough for an army in the freezer, Griff,’ I said sharply.

  ‘Of course. I keep forgetting he’s practically family.’

  It was my job to check our emails and to prepare invoices for all our French clients, with the exception, it seemed, of the prime minister. The amount I was to charge seemed eye-watering, but Morris had assured me that other dealers charged far more. I wasn’t exactly bargain basement either, however, and worked out that even in euros I could probably have paid for Griff’s treatment without bothering Aidan. What if I’d got anything wrong? What if I’d conned the French Prime Minster? It was his government that had forked out for our travel and accommodation, after all.

  Tim the Bear pointed out that someone like Harvey Sanditon wouldn’t have turned a hair at demanding such fees, and he wasn’t as good as I was. But Tim was as worried as I was by the price of the clothes I’d hardly worn and was tempted to nod when I whispered the words dress exchange or eBay. I was also worried that Griff had paid for everything on his personal card. I must make sure I paid him back.

  Tim the Bear couldn’t shake his head, but he gave me a hard stare. Griff would be not just offended but really hurt if I wasn’t careful. I’d have to raise the subject very tactfully. And actually, Tim the Bear said, wasn’t all this talk of money the sort of middle-class thing my father would deplore? At this point I cuffed him and put him back on the bed while I phoned both Pa and Mrs Walker with the news of Montaigne’s arrest.

  It was clear from Morris’s face and his general behaviour that there was some problem, but he insisted he was just bone tired; given the amount of sleep he’d had over the last few days, I could scarcely argue, but I sensed a much deeper issue than that. However, cross-questioning was the last thing he wanted, and when Griff declared that he for one needed an early night, Morris announced that he wasn’t the only one. He did no more than look askance at Tim before rolling over and falling asleep. Tim looked askance back but didn’t say anything either. Neither did Tim snore.

  If we’d been up in time, we might just have made it to one of the services Robin would be conducting. But both Morris and Griff were sleeping the sleep of the just, so I slipped out on my own to the local church. I always suspected that prayers counted more in a church and I wanted to make sure Griff got all the protection he could over the next few days. He might be making light of everything, and I might be going along with him, but I was as scared as it was possible to be.

  Our vicar, peering earnestly into my face as he shook hands afterwards in the porch, asked if he could help: it was only the queue of parishioners behind me that stopped me bursting into tears. I managed to say that Griff wasn’t as well as he could be before I gulped to a standstill.

  ‘I’ll add him to my prayer list,’ the vicar promised quietly.

  At least Griff had an expert on his side. I popped into the shop and bought our Sunday papers with a slightly lighter heart.

  Griff had a diffe
rent expert with him when we set out for the oast house and the afternoon’s rehearsal. Morris, saying he was sick of the news and entitled to a day off anyway, had decided to come with us. Griff tucked himself into the back, his script on his lap, just in case he’d forgotten anything since Tuesday. Morris managed not to criticize my driving too heavily, though he did remind me that before he’d found his niche in fine arts, he’d taken police courses in pursuit and protection driving.

  ‘So if we need to make a quick getaway, I hand over the keys to you.’

  ‘Exactly. Do you always leave it so late to signal?’

  ‘Only if I’m talking to you.’

  We were the first to arrive. There was police tape round the unit where Paul worked, but no officers around – at least, none that I could see. Since we had no key, I parked up and waited. We were soon joined by Emilia, who abandoned rather than parked her Merc. She got out awkwardly and staggered to the door, fumbling in her bag for the key, which she had difficulty in inserting into the lock.

  ‘It’s to be hoped, Morris,’ Griff said, ‘that you don’t carry a breathalysing kit.’

  ‘If she’s as pissed as she looked,’ he replied grimly as Emilia disappeared inside, ‘I bet I’ll know a man who does.’

  At this point the scream started. It went on and on. Morris and I were out of the car, but he turned to point to Griff. ‘Stay!’ he yelled, as if Griff was a stubborn mongrel. I didn’t have time to register Griff’s reaction, but zapped the lock anyway. Just the once, to lock the door. I didn’t want the alarm joining the still terrifying scream.

  I wanted to say, ‘Just another practical joke – don’t worry.’ But the words stuck in my throat at the sight and sound of the flies. And the smell.

  ‘Get her away from here,’ Morris yelled, grabbing Emilia and literally hurling her out of his way; as much as anything else, it stopped me following him.

  She staggered and fell into my arms. And then slithered out of them and started twitching. I’d not seen anyone having a fit since I was a kid. All I knew was you were supposed to turn them on their side and stop them choking on their tongue. I unzapped Griff: he might know what to do. In fact, he was already busy – he’d got his mobile out and was thrusting it at me.