A Question of Identity (23 page)

‘I know where it was!' she exclaimed, breaking into a comment of Daniel's. ‘It was when I was up with Mum and Dad. I was stationary at some traffic lights, and as they were changing this man ran across right in front of my car and I had to jam on the brakes. He turned and lifted his hand in apology before disappearing.' She paused and frowned. ‘On second thoughts, though, it can't have been him; the man I saw was fair.'

‘There you are then,' said Daniel.

‘B
y the way,' Max said on his bedtime call that evening, ‘I've decided to pay a flying visit to Tynecastle next week, if that's OK.'

‘Of course. Nothing's wrong, is there? With your father?'

‘No, but apart from a brief visit at New Year, I've not really seen him since we were there last summer. It's too long to leave it, especially at his age. Cynthia's always nagging at me to make more regular visits; this time I thought I'd forestall her.'

Max's sister lived near their father and made daily contact with him, a fact which every now and again smote him with guilt.

‘So when are you thinking of going?'

‘Up Monday, back Wednesday? Several students can't make next week for one reason or another; so it seemed a good chance. I'll let the others know, and tell them I'll make up the lesson at the end of term.'

‘Fine; do you want me to come with you?'

‘Not this time, love, if you don't mind; if you're there I won't get a look in, and I think some father–son time is called for.'

‘Fair enough. Have you let him know?'

‘No, I wanted to clear it with you first. I'll phone both him and Cynthia tomorrow. With luck she can put me up, but I suppose it depends on whether the boys are home. It would avoid adding to Doris's chores; she has enough on her plate as it is.' Doris Pemberton had been Roland's devoted housekeeper since time immemorial.

‘Give them all my love when you phone,' Rona said. ‘And don't forget we're going to the Ridgeways' tomorrow, so get home as soon as you can.'

‘Will do. Sleep well, my love.'

‘You too,' she said.

The phone rang just as Rona was thinking of turning off the computer and going down for lunch. It hadn't been a profitable morning's work; her mind was on Magda rather than Elspeth, wondering anxiously if, during the evening ahead, she'd be able to discover what was wrong. After the lunch break, she promised herself, she'd knuckle down to work. As it happened, though, the phone signalled a break of a different kind.

‘Ms Parish?'

Rona tried and failed to place the voice. ‘Speaking?'

‘This is Esther Lytton.'

Ah! Expectation flared. ‘Good morning, Miss Lytton. Or rather, good afternoon.'

‘I'm afraid I was rather short with you the other evening; I made it a rule some years ago never to accept unsolicited calls from strangers.'

‘I quite understand,' Rona murmured. ‘You must—'

‘However, I have since spoken to Catherine Bishop and learned you are not what I'd assumed, so I must apologize for having cut you off so peremptorily. What exactly was it you wanted to discuss with me?'

Rona hesitated. She didn't want to burn her boats just as there seemed a glimmer of hope. On the other hand, she knew Esther Lytton required an honest answer.

‘Springfield Lodge,' she said. ‘And particularly its final term.'

There was a pause. Then Miss Lytton said quietly, ‘Incredible, after all this time! I must say I'd be most interested to learn how and why you came to hear of it, when I've spent most of my life trying to put it behind me.' Rona heard her sigh. ‘Perhaps it's time it came into the open; it might almost be a relief. I doubt there's anyone left to be hurt by it, and from Catherine's comments, you might be just the person to deal with it.'

So there really
was
something behind Trish's reaction! Rona held her breath, waiting while Miss Lytton considered her options.

‘Would you care to visit me?' she said then. ‘I live in Buckford – quite a drive for you, I'm afraid.'

‘That's no problem,' Rona assured her, ‘I go there quite often. When . . . would be convenient for you?'

‘Friday would suit me best, if you could manage it?' Esther was her brisk self again.

‘Friday would be fine,' Rona confirmed.

‘How well do you know Buckford?'

‘Fairly well.'

‘I live on the west side of town, just past the college. You know where that is?'

‘I do, yes.'

‘Good. Mine is the first turning on the right past the college grounds – Blandford Drive. There's a fairly new apartment block, and I'm on the third floor – number six, Eton House. I'll expect you about eleven.' And she rang off.

Rona gave a low whistle. For a moment she considered phoning Lindsey and Glenda but decided against it. Better to wait till after her visit when, with luck, she would have something interesting to report.

Gavin greeted them at the door.

‘Come in, come in! Good to see you both!'

‘Sorry we're on the late side,' Max apologized. ‘A student came up with a query at the end of class, which delayed things.'

Magda emerged from the kitchen, and the bottle of wine and cyclamen plant were handed over and received with thanks. As they took their seats in the sitting room and Gavin poured the drinks, Rona surreptitiously studied her friend. Though Magda was determinedly smiling, she looked pale and there were lines round her eyes that she hadn't noticed before. Not out of the woods yet, Rona thought worriedly.

On the surface, the evening followed the long-established tradition of their visits to the Ridgeways. Over drinks, Magda informed Rona what colours would be ‘in' next season and they discussed the ongoing biography, while the men talked about the painting Max was working on and a course Gavin would be attending the following week. When the time came to eat, the meal, Italianate as always, was delicious, the wine flowed, as did the conversation, and Rona wondered if she were the only one aware of underlying tension. The elephant in the room, she thought helplessly.

As usual, they returned to the sitting room for coffee and amaretti, and it was then that Gavin said, ‘I meant to ask you, Rona: did you get any further with solving the puzzle about the school photo?'

He turned to Magda. ‘Did you hear about this? It involves our neighbours down the road.'

Briefly, Rona outlined her investigations. ‘It's still not over,' she ended, ‘because although we've confirmed the identity of the woman behind the blot, we still don't know what happened to her.'

‘Odd, isn't it?' Magda said, her voice strained. ‘We've both been trying to establish an identity, you the woman in the photograph, I the person whose dreams I was having.'

They all tensed, not knowing what to say, and her eyes, unfathomable, moved from one of them to another, awaiting their reaction. It was Gavin who found his voice.

‘Well,' he said, in an unconvincingly light tone, ‘Rona now has a name at least, so I suppose—'

‘So have I,' Magda said ringingly.

‘So have you what, sweetheart?'

‘The name of my fellow dreamer. I've known it for a week or two.'

There was a moment's stunned silence. Then Gavin said, ‘So – are you going to put us out of our suspense?'

Magda straightened her shoulders, bracing herself. ‘It was the man who murdered his wife,' she said. ‘Kevin Coombes.'

Everyone was staring at her, their faces mirroring their shock. Gavin cleared his throat. ‘And how, might I ask, did you arrive at that conclusion?'

‘I recognized the photos of his wife and children; they were the ones I'd been dreaming about.' She looked round their incredulous faces. ‘No, I'm not out of my mind, though I
have
been sharing it for a while; and for that you can blame that bloody hypnotist.'

After a minute Gavin said weakly, ‘Now you really have lost me.'

Magda leant forward, dark eyes burning. ‘Didn't you recognize him, when you saw his photograph? He was the one sitting next to me on stage.'

Rona said, ‘Magda . . .'

‘Oh, I
know
it seems far-fetched and impossible, but remember the
power
that man had, making us fall asleep when we were safely back in our seats and thought it was over? All I can think is that when he did finally give us back our minds, there was a hiccup and Kevin's and mine somehow fused.'

She looked round at their sceptical faces, but no one spoke. ‘It affected us differently; I simply tuned in to his dreams and memories, but the effect on him was altogether more serious. I've been going over and over it, and I think I see what must have happened.'

She waited for some comment or question, but none was forthcoming and after a moment she went on. ‘From what you told me, Bauer, or whatever his name was, made us indulge in some aggressive role play. Well, I believe Kevin never completely snapped out of it. From that evening on his aggression escalated; I could
feel
it, permeating his dreams.'

‘I'm sorry, Magda,' Max interrupted, ‘I just can't go along with this. The whole idea is preposterous.'

She ignored him. ‘As Gavin knows, the dreams started almost at once and from the first there was something unsettling about them, even when they were just about children playing or washing the car. And it struck me as odd that they were all of the same people, whom I didn't know. Later, there were flashes of “memories” that seemed incredibly real, but that I couldn't possibly have. And some of them were . . . violent.'

A shudder ran through her. ‘Then there was the last dream, which was so beyond bearing that I totally lost it and Gavin could do nothing with me.' She took a deep breath. ‘And that was about him strangling his wife.'

Her hands twisted in her lap and she stared down at them, as though she wasn't sure they belonged to her. ‘When news of the murder broke and I saw the photos of Lucy and the boys – and
recognized
them – I was convinced I was going mad. The only way I could cope was by totally blocking the dream, refusing to admit its existence, though God knows it's haunted me ever since. But at least there haven't been any more.'

There was a long silence as they all fought with varying degrees of disbelief.

Magda drew a deep breath. ‘I still had no idea how I'd become mixed up in all this, because although Lucy and the boys had featured in my dreams, Kevin never appeared – he was always the “I” figure, the spectator. It was only when I saw
his
photo a day or two later and realized who he was – that we'd actually met on stage – that it all finally made sense.'

‘Why in God's name didn't you tell me?' Gavin demanded hoarsely. ‘Why go through all that on your own?'

She reached for his hands with both hers. ‘Because talking about it would have made it real! I was terrified, don't you see? I still am! Gavin, I have psychic links with a
murderer
! Have you any idea how that feels?
Believe me, it's quite literally ­mind-blowing! I was convinced you'd all think I was mad – you probably do now – so I forced it out of my head, made myself go on as usual.'

She paused, then continued more quietly, ‘But in the last few days I've had to accept that it's not over. Yes, the dreams have stopped, thank God, but memory flashes still come during the day, and I realize now it won't finally end till we meet face-to-face.'

‘Like that's going to happen!' Gavin said explosively.

Rona leant forward. ‘Look, Magda, this could all be some huge misunderstanding. It's weeks since you saw the hypnotist; your memory of the man next to you is sure to have blurred a bit, and it would be easy to mistake him—'

‘He was called Kevin,' Magda interrupted, ‘the man next to me. We all had to give our names, didn't we? Surely you remember him now?'

Max said firmly, ‘Speaking personally, I'd be hard pressed to recognize
anyone
who went up on that stage, apart from you. Don't forget we were several rows back; we never saw any of the contestants up close.'

Magda lifted her shoulders. ‘Well, I was up close, all right.'

‘We don't even know
for a fact
that Kevin Coombes went to the show that night,' Rona said a little desperately. ‘It could still have been another Kevin sitting next to you.'

Magda wearily shook her head. ‘I knew I'd never convince you,' she said.

They were no sooner in their car than Max said forcefully, ‘Well, now I've heard it all! Gavin will have to do something, take her to see someone. She's away with the fairies.'

Rona shivered. ‘I'm frightened for her, Max. Why, in the name of heaven, did we ever go to that show? Paola was worried, you know, when she heard Magda had taken part. Said she was “susceptible” and as a child had had difficulty distinguishing what was real.'

‘So, no doubt, do most children. The difference is most of them grow out of it.' He glanced at her. ‘I don't like it, Rona, this identifying with a murderer. Of course it's arrant nonsense, but for the moment I'd rather you kept your distance. If she's really set on meeting this man – to “break the thread”, or whatever it is she imagines is between them – then it could become really dangerous.'

‘But she's my
friend
, Max! I can't just abandon her!'

‘Well, don't say I didn't warn you. Believe me, the best way you can help her is by persuading her to see a psychiatrist.'

The rest of the drive home passed in silence.

‘Sarah? It's Rona.'

‘Hi, Rona! This is a surprise!'

It would be, Rona thought; the two of them had met only a few times, and then in the company of their parents. ‘I hope I'm not interrupting anything. This is your lunch break?'