Person or Persons Unknown (15 page)

‘Selina O'Toole?'

The voice sharpened. ‘Who's that?'

‘My name is Rona Parish,' Rona said quickly. ‘Your number was given to me by Tess Chadwick of the
Stokely Gazette
.'

No response.

‘I hope you'll forgive my contacting you, Ms O'Toole, but I should very much like to meet you.'

‘Why?'

Not much encouragement there. ‘I want to speak to you about Gemma Grant—'

‘Now look,' Selina broke in angrily, ‘if I find Tess has passed my number to some tin-pot journalist who's—'

‘—on behalf of Gemma's daughter,' Rona finished, raising her voice over the other woman's.

There was a silence, then Selina said, ‘Would you repeat that?'

‘Gemma Grant's daughter contacted me. She wants to trace her father.'

‘
Amanda
contacted you?'

‘She has a different name, but yes.'

There was another silence, longer than the first. Then: ‘I don't
know
who her father is, as I've been telling everyone for more than twenty years.'

‘Could we meet? Please?'

‘Who did you say you are?'

‘Rona Parish. I live—'

‘The Rona Parish who writes for
Chiltern Life
?'

‘Yes,' Rona admitted with surprise.

‘I subscribe to the magazine,' Selina said shortly. Then, ‘I apologize for calling you tin-pot.'

‘Apology accepted. But will you see me?'

‘It would be a wasted journey. I really—'

‘If nothing else, I'd like to talk about Gemma, try to get to know her, so I can tell – her daughter. Now she's pregnant herself, she feels the need to learn about her real parents.'

‘Oh God,' Selina said flatly. ‘And there was I, congratulating myself that I'd put it all behind me.'

‘I'd be so grateful,' Rona pressed.

A sigh came down the phone. ‘Well, I suppose I could stretch it just one more time. For Amanda's sake.'

‘Thank you so much.'

Having reached her decision, Selina swiftly finalized the details. ‘Six thirty on Friday, the Grapes Wine Bar in Campion Street?'

‘I'll be there. I look forward to meeting you.'

‘Goodbye, Rona Parish,' said Selina, and broke the connection.

R
ona spent the next morning finishing her article on education by inserting the sentences she'd already earmarked from James Latymer's manifesto. And this, she thought as she slipped it into an envelope, finally drew the line under her Buckford assignment. It was a relief, but she was also aware of regret for the friendships she'd made there which would, in the nature of things, now lapse.

‘Walk, Gus!' she called as she went downstairs, and heard the answering patter of his paws as he lolloped up from the basement.

Out on the street, the chill breeze stung her cheeks and lifted her hair, but she welcomed its freshness. She'd spent most of the last two days in the car, and a little exercise was welcome. After delivering the article and buying the few household items she needed, she intended to take Gus for a brisk run in the park.

As usual, Polly, the receptionist at
Chiltern Life
, relieved her of him, enabling her to visit Barnie without the danger of a waving tail unbalancing the piles of papers in his office.

‘So this is it, then?' he commented, sliding the sheets out of the envelope she handed him. ‘End of story?'

‘It's the last to be written, yes, but you already have the one that'll appear last, pulling all the threads together.' The articles were scheduled to spill over into the new year, when the octocentenary officially began.

Barnie nodded, running his eyes down the topmost page. ‘It was a good idea, Rona; we've had a lot of positive feedback and circulation is up again this month.' He regarded her over the top of his glasses. ‘Probably coincidence, mind!'

‘No doubt.'

He eyed her more closely. ‘How goes this harebrained scheme you've embarked on?'

‘Slowly but surely.'

‘You put the wind up Dinah, you know; she's quite worried about you.'

‘Sweet of her, but she needn't be. How are the family?'

He held her gaze a moment longer, to show that he'd registered her swift change of subject. ‘The same as when you saw them.'

‘You must all come to us one weekend.'

‘As long as you're prepared to have your home wrecked. It'll be too cold to be outdoors and Sam moves like greased lightning.'

‘I'm sure we can cope.' She stood up. ‘I'll be in touch. Love to everyone.'

Back in the foyer, Rona had a quick word with Polly, retrieved Gus, and, leaving the building, turned in the direction of Guild Street to do her shopping. She had taken only a few steps when a voice behind her called, ‘Lindsey!' and, as she instinctively turned, ‘That's a bit of luck! I was afraid we—'

The man who had spoken broke off as Rona faced him. ‘Oh! You're not … but good God, you almost are!'

She laughed and held out her hand. ‘Rona Parish. The other half.'

He took her hand, smiling ruefully. ‘I do apologize. Jonathan Hurst – a colleague of your sister's.'

So this was the new man in Lindsey's life. Rona regarded him more closely. He was older than she'd expected – late forties, she guessed – and, his equilibrium restored, there was an easy self-assurance about him. His hair was fairish, thick and over-long, his grey eyes deep-set, his jaw firm, and he was regarding her with a half-smile, as though wondering how much she knew about him.

‘Lindsey's mentioned you,' she said, deliberately withholding the extent of her knowledge.

He gave a little nod, acknowledging her prevarication. ‘And you to me, obviously. I'm delighted to meet you. You're uncannily alike, aren't you?'

‘It goes with the territory.'

Hurst looked down at Gus, who was sniffing at his trouser leg. ‘Handsome animal,' he commented. ‘I have a bassett hound myself. Takes a lot of exercising, as I suppose this fellow does.'

‘Yes; we're going up to the park shortly, for a run before lunch.'

‘I envy you; I'm on my way back to the office and sandwiches at my desk. Apologies again for accosting you. I'll be more cautious next time.'

Not wishing to walk with him, Rona, with a murmured goodbye, turned into the doorway of the adjacent building and waited there until Hurst had crossed the road and rounded the corner on to Guild Street.

He was not the office Lothario she'd expected, being altogether more – established, she thought, not pleased with the adjective but unable to think of a better. He gave the impression of a settled family man – with a bassett hound, for heaven's sake – who belonged to the golf club and took his children to the zoo at weekends.

What was it he'd said before he realized his mistake?
I was afraid we—
We what? What had he wanted to speak to Lindsey about? Rona hoped profoundly that her twin was not serious about this man; she was convinced he'd be unwilling to disturb his pleasant lifestyle with anything as traumatic as divorce.

Rona mentioned the meeting to Max over supper.

‘What did you think of him?' he asked.

‘A smoothie. I'd say his intentions are strictly dishonourable.'

‘She does pick them, doesn't she? She might just as well take Hugh back, and have done with it.'

‘I'm not sure that's still an option.'

‘Have you seen him at all?'

‘No, which is odd, come to think of it, when he's working and presumably living here.'

‘Keeping a low profile, perhaps.' Max suggested absently.

Rona glanced at him. ‘You seem a bit preoccupied. Anything wrong?'

He met her eyes, then looked away. ‘No, not really.'

‘Which means “yes”. Come on, what is it?'

He smiled wryly. ‘Promise not to fly off the handle?'

Rona raised her eyebrows. ‘Do I ever?'

‘Frequently!'

‘All right, I promise.'

‘Well, it's probably nothing, as I said. Just that Adele didn't turn up at class this afternoon.'

Rona held back an instinctive retort. ‘And that's a cause for concern?' she asked instead.

‘Let's say it's never happened before. Oh, sometimes she can't make it, but she always phones to cancel.'

‘And this time she didn't?'

‘No.'

‘Well, perhaps one of the children was taken ill, and it just went out of her mind. There are hundreds of possibilities.'

‘I know.'

Rona regarded him steadily. ‘But you're wondering if Philip's been beating her up?'

Max's head reared.

‘Admit it; that
is
what you're wondering, isn't it?'

He looked at her mutely.

‘Max, hard though it is to accept, it's really none of our business. It's not as if she's a child; the solution's in her own hands.'

‘From what I hear, though, women in that position seldom do anything about it.'

‘If they've no money, or are dependent on their husbands, perhaps not. But I doubt if Adele's in that bracket.' Rona took a deep breath. ‘You want me to phone Lindsey and ask her to go round.'

He reached for her hand. ‘Would you?'

‘I can't promise she'll oblige.'

‘Worth a try, anyway.'

‘I hear you met Jonathan,' Lindsey said at once.

‘I did indeed.'

‘What did you think of him?'

Rona toned down her impression. ‘Attractive, certainly. Affable.'

‘
Affable?
'

‘Heavens, Lindsey, what do you want me to say? We spoke for about two minutes. Anyway, that's not why I'm phoning. You're not out of sugar, by any chance?'

‘
What?
'

‘Adele didn't show at the class today. Any chance of your popping round with some excuse?'

‘God, Rona, what is this? I've already had her to tea at your husband's request. There is a limit, you know.'

‘Just this once? Please?'

‘And then what? Report back to you?'

‘Please,' Rona said again.

Lindsey sighed gustily and rang off.

Half an hour later, she phoned back. ‘She wasn't overjoyed to see me, but she seemed OK.'

‘What excuse did you make?'

‘Told her my phone wasn't working and asked if hers was.'

‘Brilliant. And she was all right?'

‘Well, she seemed a bit harassed, but the children were running round in their pyjamas and she was obviously trying to get them to bed. She did at least try the phone, which, not surprisingly, was working, and offered to report mine as being out of order. I told her I'd do it on my mobile.'

‘Thanks, Linz, that'll set Max's mind at rest.'

‘My mission in life, as you know.'

The threatened rail strike had not materialized by the time Rona parked her car at the station on Friday afternoon. The prospect of arriving in London at the height of the rush hour was not appealing, but she'd have put up with far more inconvenience for the chance of meeting Selina O'Toole. Reference to the A-Z had revealed that the nearest tube station to Campion Street was Sloane Square, and she accordingly made her way there, thankful that a large portion of the home-going crowd was travelling in the opposite direction.

The volume of conversation from the Grapes Wine Bar spilled out on to the pavement, enveloping her even before she set foot inside. How, she wondered despairingly, could she hope to find Selina among this seething mass of people? But along the right-hand side ran a raised area approached by a couple of steps, and, seated at a table there, she caught sight of the inimitable red hair and made her way thankfully towards it.

‘Rona Parish, I presume?' Selina said, reaching up a hand.

Rona took it. ‘Yes. Thanks so much for agreeing to see me.'

She sat down, taking stock of her companion. It was not only Selina's hair that was red, she noted; her lips and fingernails were the same vibrant colour, and her eyes were heavily mascara'd. Television make-up? Rona wondered. For the rest, she was wearing a trouser suit in bottle green, gold hoop earrings, and an enormous topaz on her right hand. No wedding ring was in evidence, though a brief check had revealed she'd been married twice.

‘Right,' she said, in her distinctively rasping voice, ‘now we've sized each other up, let's get down to business. I've ordered tapas, by the way, and a bottle of red. OK?'

‘Fine. Thanks.' Too bad she couldn't use her tape recorder, but the background noise would render it useless.

Selina took a pack of slim cigars from her handbag, offered it to Rona, who shook her head, and selected one for herself. ‘I don't know what you're expecting me to tell you,' she went on, as she proceeded to light it. ‘Everything I know is on record, but that doesn't stop someone crawling out of the woodwork every three or four years to ask the same old questions. I might tell you I only agreed to this because of Amanda. I want to hear all about her. You say she's changed her name?'

‘Yes, though I'd rather not reveal it at this stage.'

Selina gave a twisted smile. ‘You're talking to a journalist, babe.'

A young man approached the balustrade beside them and handed up a tray laden with plates, glasses and a bottle of wine. ‘Food will follow shortly,' he assured them. Rona hid a smile. Dino's this was not.

Selina removed the items from the tray. ‘It's largely DIY here, as you'll have gathered,' she remarked, seeming to read Rona's mind, ‘but it suits me. No one gives me a second glance, and it's just round the corner from my flat. Now – Amanda. Give.'

‘She's happily married, and about four months pregnant. That's why she's so keen to find out about her parents.'