Kitabı oku: «Playing the Game», sayfa 2

THREE

Annette went to see her sister on Friday morning. She usually spent part of Saturday with her, but this week she was going to Kent to make decisions about Christopher Delaware’s paintings and the auction of them.

Laurie was waiting for her, full of smiles and eagerness, happy to see her. As she usually was. There wasn’t a day when Laurie hadn’t welcomed her with a loving, wide-open heart and open arms, her pleasure at being with her reflected on her face. Laurie. The real beauty in the family with her green eyes and golden-red hair. Laurie, who had wanted to be an actress when she was a child and had been cheated of the chance.

The two of them sat together in front of the fire, in Laurie’s den in her flat in Chesham Place, just around the corner from their home in Eaton Square. It pleased Laurie that she and Marius lived nearby because it gave her a sense of security; Annette felt the same. If ever Laurie needed her urgently or in any kind of emergency, she could be there within minutes on foot.

Almost immediately she told her sister about the phone call from Malcolm Stevens earlier that week, and how he had brought up the name of Hilda Crump.

Laurie listened, her face calm, the expression in her intelligent eyes changing ever so slightly by the time Annette finished.

There was a small silence, and Annette realized Laurie was running everything through her mind in that analytical way she had. Finally Laurie said softly, ‘I hope you’re not worrying about this.’

‘I have been. Well, a little bit. It was such a jolt, hearing that name out of the blue, and I couldn’t help wondering who could possibly be looking for Hilda Crump.’

‘Yes. Who? Yes, indeed who? And also why? But listen, it doesn’t really matter. Hilda went away years ago, she’ll never be found, not unless you break the promise you made. You’re not going to do that, are you?’

‘No, I’m not. Obviously.’

‘We’ll never know who’s looking for her anyway, not unless the private detective informs Malcolm, and he then tells us. But whoever it is doesn’t matter. Hilda’s not available and we can’t give anybody any information.’

‘But we were so involved with her, we were privy to so much.’

‘Only you and I know that, and it happened long ago. Over twenty years, Annette. Believe me, it doesn’t matter.’

Annette leaned back in the chair, staring at her younger sister. ‘If that’s the case, all right.’

‘There’s no question in my mind. Just please stop worrying, because if you don’t I’ll start worrying about you.’ Laurie laughed. ‘Now, please tell me more about the party. On the phone you’ve been awfully sketchy. I’m longing to hear everything.’ Her eagerness was reflected in her eyes.

Annette said, ‘I wish you’d been there, enjoyed it with us, Laurie. I can’t understand why you were so adamant about not coming, and neither can Marius. He wanted you to be with us as much as I did.’

‘In this? In this wheelchair? Don’t be silly, I’d have been a useless encumbrance. An inconvenience.’

‘Don’t say that! You’re none of those things. We really did hope you’d change your mind, that you would join us, and you know I never lie to you.’

‘I’m sorry, don’t get upset. And I do know how sincere you were about my coming. But I see things differently to you at times, Annette. I didn’t want to be a burden. And look, I didn’t want you to have questions to answer later. About me. People asking you why I was in a wheelchair, et cetera, et cetera. All that nonsense. I’ve told you before, you don’t need a cripple hanging on to your apron strings—’

‘Don’t say that, you know how I hate you to say that!’ Annette exclaimed, her voice rising.

‘But I am a cripple, no two ways about it. I was in a bad car crash and now I’m a paraplegic.’

‘You’ve lost the use of your legs, yes, but you survived. The others died, and you’re still a beautiful woman. Intelligent, charming, and clever, and you are not an embarrassment to me. Nor to Marius. Besides, you’ve been with us on many occasions with friends and—’

‘Very close friends,’ Laurie interjected.

Annette continued, ‘And there’s never been any problem.’

‘That’s quite true. The birthday party was different, though, you’d invited two hundred people, and they’d all accepted. I knew it would be a heavy-duty evening for you.’

‘I would have put you at my table, or with Marius, and you know so many of our close friends, like Malcolm and David, Johnny Davenport. You’d have been perfectly fine.’

Laurie smiled. ‘I know. Don’t go on about it. Please. Look, I preferred not to come.’ Laurie made a face. ‘It would have been quite an effort for me, actually.’

‘Are you all right? You’re not feeling ill, are you?’

‘No, I’m not ill. Listen, it would have been a bit tough for me, that’s all, the crowds, lots of people I don’t know.’ She gave her sister another loving smile, her eyes reassuring. Laurie had not gone because she had not wanted to be a reminder of the bad days, not on this particularly special night in Annette’s life. But then a name from the past had done that. Unfortunately. Taking a deep breath, Laurie said, ‘Please tell me about the party. And don’t you dare miss out one detail.’

There were not many people about as Annette walked next to Laurie in the motorized wheelchair, crossing Eaton Square, making for their flat on the far corner. But then it was cold, breezy, a typical early March day, with a hint of rain in the air. People stayed home on days like this.

They were moving along at a fairly quick pace, both wanting to get inside, into the warmth. She glanced up at one moment and was startled to see that the sky had changed in the last hour she had been at her sister’s flat. It had become a deeper, brighter blue.

‘We’ve suddenly got a Renoir sky,’ she exclaimed, glancing at her sister. ‘It was pale, almost grey, earlier.’

Laurie lifted her eyes, and nodded. ‘Yes, it is that lovely blue he used for his own skies and bodies of water, and frequently for the dresses he painted on his incomparable women.’ Swivelling her head, she looked up at Annette, and smiled. ‘Only you would call it a Renoir sky.’

‘I know. But then he is my favourite Impressionist.’

‘And mine. And of course Rembrandt’s a favourite now! Let’s face it, he’s a painter who has been lucky for you. Does Christopher Delaware have any more tucked away in his house?’

‘If only.’ Annette laughed.

‘He might find some other treasure put away, you know,’ Laurie ventured. ‘Collectors like his peculiar uncle often bought paintings and simply stashed them away, hid them. Because they didn’t want anyone else to look at them.’

‘That sometimes did happen, and it still does. However, I imagine that by now Christopher has scoured that house from top to bottom.’

‘You bet he has.’ Laurie suddenly shivered, turned up the collar of her coat, brought her scarf to her chin, fumbling with the scarf through her cashmere gloves.

Annette, who missed nothing when it came to her sister’s wellbeing, asked swiftly, ‘Are you feeling the cold?’

‘No, not too much. And I’m glad to be out and about with you. Thank you for taking the day off to spend it with me.’

‘I’m happy to be with you. A whole day with you is one of my real luxuries.’

Her sister smiled at this comment, snuggled into her coat, and let her gaze wander around Eaton Square. ‘The trees are sad today – bereft, lifeless. Twigs in the wind. This is such a beautiful square, but I must admit I like it best in the summer when the gardens are filled with leafy branches. They make such a lovely cool green tent over our heads when we picnic there.’ Laurie let out a long sigh. ‘I’ll be glad when spring comes; it’s been a dreary, weary winter.’

‘We’ll go somewhere warm soon. In the spring. We’ll make plans,’ Annette assured her, love echoing in her voice for her only relative. Well, there was their brother, Anthony, but he was long gone from their lives. Who knew where he was, and their parents were dead. They only had each other. She’s enough, Annette thought. She has such a big heart and so much to give. She’s strong and determined and filled with compassion for others; then there’s her bravery and courage, and her selflessness. Yes, she’s enough. She might be petite and delicate but she packs a wallop. Also, Laurie was her good right hand, a brilliant researcher and an integral part of her art business.

‘Here we are,’ Annette exclaimed a moment or two later.

Annette now came to a stop in front of a dark green front door, turned the wheelchair around, backed up the two steps, pulling the wheelchair after her. Once she was on the top step, she rang the intercom bell which had the brass nameplate engraved with the name Remmington next to it.

‘It’s us,’ she answered when Marius’s disembodied voice echoed down to them.

There was a loud buzz and a click; Annette pushed the door open, and Laurie took control of her chair again once they were in the hall of the building. She headed straight for the lift. A few seconds later they were on the landing, where Marius was standing at the open door of the flat.

Beaming at Laurie, he leaned over her, kissed her cheek. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he said warmly. ‘Let’s get you in front of the fire. Your face looks pinched.’

‘It’s lovely to see you, Marius,’ Laurie responded, removing her gloves and scarf, shrugging herself out of her coat. After pulling the coat out from under her sister, Annette went to hang it up.

Marius said, ‘We’ll go into the living room, darling.’

‘Good idea. I’ll be with you in a moment.’

Laurie loved this large, beautifully proportioned room, overlooking Eaton Square, with its tall windows and a white marble fireplace at one end. The colour scheme was a mixture of yellows, which gave it a sunny feeling whatever the weather outside, and the accent colours were blue and white. A fire was burning brightly in the hearth and the scent of flowers was fragrant on the air. There were bowls filled with blooms scattered about, but Laurie knew Annette always used Ken Turner’s scented candles throughout the flat to get the proper effect she wanted.

Once she had positioned herself near the fire, Marius went to the drinks table nearby, took a bottle of Dom Perignon out of the silver ice bucket. As he popped the cork, he looked at Laurie, said, ‘You’re a naughty girl, not coming to my sixtieth, you know. I was very disappointed.’

Before she could answer, Annette came hurrying in with a plate of canapés. ‘Marius, don’t chastise her! I’ve done that already!’

‘Well, of course you have,’ he remarked with a cheerful laugh, then asked, ‘So, who wants a glass of bubbly? Both of you, I hope. Certainly I’m going to have one.’

‘Can’t wait,’ Laurie answered, beginning to thaw out in front of the blazing fire. She was filled with happiness to be with them; she adored Annette and loved Marius, who had never been anything but very kind to her.

‘I’ll have one too,’ Annette said, and went and sat on the sofa. As Marius poured the champagne, she asked, ‘What time’s your plane this afternoon?’

He glanced across at her, still pouring the wine. ‘I had a bit of luck a short while ago. Jimmy Musgrave has offered me a lift on his private jet.’

‘Who’s Jimmy Musgrave?’ Annette asked, a brow lifting. ‘Do I know him?’

‘No, you haven’t met him yet because he’s been in Los Angeles. He’s a new client of mine, came to me through one of my Hollywood contacts. He called to tell me he was flying to Barcelona later today and couldn’t see me next week. I said, what a coincidence, so am I. And he was quick to invite me to fly with him. He said he’d like my company, that we could “talk art", was the way he put it. To answer your question, I have to be at the airport at five.’

‘That was a lucky break.’ Annette accepted the flute of champagne from him and smiled. ‘It should be nice in Barcelona this weekend; you’ll be able to get a bit of sun.’

Walking over to Laurie, he handed her the glass, then sat down in the chair next to her. ‘I doubt it,’ he murmured, addressing Annette. ‘I really do need to spend some time with the director of the Picasso Museum, and I want to do a good long walk through, to refresh my memory.’

‘How’s the book coming along?’ Laurie asked, referring to the one Marius was writing about the painter.

‘Rather better than I expected. It’s odd, Laurie, it just started to take off in the last six months or so. I’ve done more work in that time than I did the whole of the previous year. I think Picasso really comes alive on the pages at last. And by the way, ladies, I’ve decided to dedicate this book to the two of you – my very special muses.’

‘How lovely,’ Laurie cried, and raising her glass she said, ‘Here’s to your new book, Marius, and thank you for the dedication to us.’

Annette said, ‘That’s nice of you, darling; yes, thank you, thank you very much.’

A small silence fell between them; the three of them sat back, sipping their champagne, relaxing, enjoying being together in this beautiful room in front of the blazing fire on this cold day.

It was Marius who broke the silence when he asked, ‘Are you still planning to drive down to Kent tomorrow? To review Christopher’s paintings?’

‘Yes. I must make some decisions. In fact, he must, too. I’ve got to start making my plans for the next auction.’

‘You’ve never actually said what else there is in his late uncle’s collection.’ Marius gave her a very direct, penetrating look. ‘Either there’s something really special or absolutely nothing at all. Come on, sweetheart, spill the beans.’

Annette shook her head. ‘No, no, I’m not keeping secrets from you, if that’s what you’re suggesting,’ she instantly shot back, a frown knotting her brow. ‘And actually, I did tell you there were a couple of Impressionists, and also an important piece of sculpture. As for paintings, there’s a Cassatt and a Degas, and I did tell you.’

Catching the nuance of irritation in her voice, he said, in a placating tone, ‘Come to think of it, that you did, I’d just forgotten. In fact, didn’t you say there was a Giacometti sculpture in the collection also?’

‘I did, and I know it’s valuable. Oh, and there’s a Cézanne. I admire his work, you know. For some reason it’s really dirty, therefore it must be cleaned. I can’t imagine what that uncle of Christopher’s was like. A careless man, I suppose, at least when it came to taking care of his art collection. Imagine neglecting a Rembrandt and a Cézanne. He didn’t even have the collection catalogued, at least as far as I know. And Christopher doesn’t know very much more than I do. Apparently he wasn’t close to his uncle, hardly knew him, but since there was no other heir, he inherited the collection.’

‘Everything else as well,’ Laurie murmured. ‘I read about it in the papers. There was some sort of really sad incident in his life, and he became a recluse, as well as being something of an eccentric anyway – the uncle I mean.’

Marius, thoughtful, said slowly, ‘I believe it was a broken engagement, or a divorce; there was a woman involved, some tragedy, if I remember correctly. I think you and I read the same newspaper stories, Laurie.’ He glanced at his wife. ‘Don’t you know any of the family background?’

‘Not much. Christopher has never told me anything. He’s rather shy, reticent.’

‘Ho, ho, that’s what you think, is it! Well, he’s certainly not too shy to ogle you. He’s got big eyes for you, Annette.’ Marius laughed. It sounded a little hollow.

‘That’s not true. And he’s only twenty-three, for heaven’s sake!’

‘What’s age got to do with anything? Age is merely a number, that’s all. And he does have eyes for you. I saw it myself at the party on Tuesday night. Come on, admit it.’

‘Oh pooh,’ Annette exclaimed in a dismissive voice, not wishing to acknowledge the truth in what Marius was saying. That would only give him ammunition to tease her, or taunt her, as he was sometimes prone to do. It was another way to control her.

Laurie sat back, watching them, not daring to enter into this conversation. She knew it was wise to remain silent. She was only too well aware that Marius had always been extremely possessive of Annette, and jealous. There were times when Laurie had seen him watching her sister like a hawk, his face a mask of anger, if there was another man showing interest. Whenever she had mentioned his dreadful possessiveness, which seemed pathological to her, Annette had dismissed it vehemently. Nonetheless, there was a certain problem there, whatever Annette believed.

Marius stood up, went to fetch the bottle of champagne, and refilled their glasses, then took it back to the silver bucket. He stood there for a moment, his hand on the bottle, looking from his wife to his sister-in-law. Finally he said, ‘Listen, the two of you, I’ve just had an inspired idea. I think you should both go down to Kent tomorrow to that house of Christopher’s, his uncle’s huge pile. You’d enjoy the outing, Laurie, wouldn’t you? And Laurie would be company for you, Annette. I’ll tell you what, I’ll talk to Paddy on my way to the airport. I know he’ll be happy to drive you to Kent, wait and bring you back. Now what do you say about that, the two of you?’