Â
Â
ADRIAN PEARSON, HIS CAR parked in a lay-by in a quiet lane, was making calculations on a small pad. He raised his head, his brain busy, and stared unseeingly at a cow in a neighbouring field. He was doing very well indeed. Mentally he reviewed his list of victims and wondered which of them he should next approach. Mrs Carrington had nothing else of value but there were one or two others in this area ⦠Adrian tapped his pen thoughtfully against his teeth. The Rainbirds had not yet contacted him. He frowned, turning the pages in the pad until he came to the inventory he'd made at the house in the cove. As he read it through, excitement began to mount; he couldn't possibly let this one pass. He remembered the desperation which the old buffer had not quite been able to hide and wondered if he were still trying to overcome his scruples or his sentimentality for the pieces. The old bat had been ready to sell, he'd swear to it.
Adrian gave a sigh of pure irritation and snapped his notebook shut. Maybe the time had come for a tiny nudge, a gentle reminder ⦠He wondered what the old couple had said to Tessaâand did it matter? After all, they clearly needed to raise money and selling some family heirlooms was the obvious way to do it. He shrugged, flicked the book open again and picked up his mobile telephone. The woman answered almost immediately.
âAh.' Adrian was caught slightly off balance. For some reason he had expected Mr Rainbird. âHello. Miss Rainbird? It's Adrian Pearson here.'
âShe's not here,' said the woman. âWho did you say it was?'
Adrian was puzzled. âIt's Adrian Pearson. The antique dealer. I think we met when I came down to the cove.'
âAh, yes,' said the woman. âOf course. Well, Tessa's not here. Shall I take a message?'
âOh, I see.' He laughed in a conciliatory way. âI do apologise. I thought that you were Miss Rainbird too, you see.'
âMy name is Beatrice Holmes,' she said flatly.
âYes,' he said awkwardly into the silence and cursing her lack of friendliness. âWell, I seem doomed to miss Tessa, don't I? Uh ⦠any other thoughts about the conversation we had? Any movement there? I'm in the area again for a day or two. I'd be very happy to pop over.'
âI'm sure you know my feeling in the matter, Mr ⦠er. My cousin, however, is full of the finer feelings and is having difficulty in bringing himself to the point. It's only a matter of time.'
âI see.' Adrian's spirits began to rise again. She might be an old cow but she was much easier to deal with than these dithering old idiots who wanted to hang on to their relics. He chuckled, trying to introduce a more friendly note into the proceedings. âIs he there? Would you like me to have a little chat with him? You know? Encourage him a bit?'
The conspiratorial note seemed to soften her a little. âWe-ell, it's not a bad notion, I suppose. He has to be pushed into every decision he takes. Quite exhausting! I'm afraid he isn't here at the moment. Perhaps you could try again later. Have we your telephone number?'
âIt's on the card,' said Adrian quickly. âThe London office and my mobile. There's no point in giving you my other number. I move around such a lot. Have you still got my card?'
There was a pause whilst paper was shuffled about at the other end of the line. Presently her voice read out the number of his mobile telephone.
âThat's it!' he said cheerfully. âExcellent. Well, I'll give you a bell
later this afternoon, shall I? Meanwhile you can get hold of me on that number unless I'm with a client.'
He switched off and stared out through the windscreen. It looked as if all would be well. âIt's only a matter of time,' she'd saidâand there had been no mention of Tessa. Adrian took a deep breath and beat the steering wheel lightly with a triumphant fist. He glanced at his watch. He had one other call to make and then he would be free. The old chap might be back by then and he could give him a nice gentle going-over; a hint that he might not be able to place the pieces if he didn't have them soon; an indication that he might have to drop his offer because of other pieces he'd seen of greater value â¦
Adrian put his notes into his briefcase, shifted in his seat and fastened his seat belt. With luck he might have the whole thing sewn up by this time tomorrow.
Â
âI GATHER THAT IT was my name that you were taking in vain?' asked Will, placidly turning the page of the
Kingsbridge Gazette
at the kitchen table. âWas it our nice friendly crook?'
âIt was.' Bea sat down opposite. âWhat are we going to do about him?'
Will crossed his arms and brought his mind to bear on Adrian Pearson. âAccording to James, there's nothing we
can
do,' he said regretfully.
âNothing legal, perhaps,' said Bea. âI know we can't get him locked up but perhaps we could give him a good fright.'
Will looked interested. âGot any ideas?'
âNot yet,' she admitted. âAll this business with Tessa has put him out of my mind but surely if he knew that we know he's a crook ⦠?'
Will ran his hand through his hair and gazed into the middle-distance; Bea watched him with well-concealed affection. She tried to analyse these new sensations and decided that they were summed up in the word âcontentment'. Her life with Will was without passion
but it was deeply satisfying. He was companionable, but left her room to breathe, and his cheerful kindness made him an ideal person with whom to share her home and her life. It was hardly odd that she was barely able to contemplate a different existence.
Bea looked about her. The French windows stood open to the balcony and the room was filled with bright trembling light. Sidney lay stretched out in the May sunshine and she realised that his presence was fast becoming as familiar as the gentle, persistent whisper of the sea. The cries of the gulls could be heard above the sound of the Morris jolting down the track. Isobel was home.
Will, too, had heard the engine and straightened a little in his chair. He could not prevent the upward leaping of his heart at the thought of seeing her; dark, tall, eager. He hated to think of her being unhappy; longed to shoulder her burdens and surround her with his love. Sometimes he imagined her accepting that love, marrying him; would he ever have the courage to ask her? Sometimes, when her loneliness brought her across to the house to sit and talk or play Scrabble, he thought that he might. He knew that he had helped her with her grief and guilt about Mathilda but he was sure that she still loved Simon and that his marriage had hurt her deeply. So, too, had the continuing indifference of her daughter. Like Mathilda before him, Will knew that Isobel was happiest when she was needed.
Sidney raised his head. He, too, had heard Isobel's approach and his tail began to thump. He was happier than he had ever been, since his master's defection, here in the cove and he padded in through the French windows so that when Isobel opened the kitchen door they were all waiting for her.
Her hair was constrained by a twisted silk scarf and she wore a cherry-coloured T-shirt tucked into a long swirling skirt of navy and red, her waist clasped by a wide leather belt. She was carrying a bunch of narcissi in one hand and a bottle of claret in the other and she looked radiant. Will clamped himself to his chair with both hands, lest he should leap up and embrace her, and it was left to Bea to say: âHow
summery you look. Goodness! Are they for me?' as Isobel deposited the flowers beside her and held out the wine to Will.
He freed his hands and took it, smiling at her. Something wonderful had happened to her, he could see that at once, and he wondered what could possibly make her look like a young girl in love. He was filled with a horrid foreboding. Perhaps Simon had come to his senses at last and wanted her back. Will stood up quickly so that she should not see the anxiety he was, for the moment, unable to hide and he was grateful for Bea's calm voice asking Isobel what good fortune had blessed her.
âOh, it's the most fantastic, unbelievable thing,' she was crying as she sank down at the table and hugged Sidney. âYou'll never believe it.
I
can't. I've waited so long.'
Will kept his back to the table, pretending to fiddle at the draining board so that they should not see the sudden tremor of his hands.
âDon't keep us in suspense,' Bea was saying. âWe don't know whether to offer you coffee or champagne. Not that we've got any. So what is this fantastic and unbelievable thing?'
âI've been into Kingsbridge,' she said, trying in vain to control the joy in her voice, âand I popped into the shop, just to give a message to Pat, and she had a letter for me. Oh, it's just so amazing! I didn't recognise the writing to begin withâwell, it's been so longâand I thought it might be a customer. Just occasionally they write to thank you for getting a book or something, so I just shoved it in my bag and went over to Somerfields. And when I'd done my shopping I was just sitting in the car getting my keys out and I saw the letter and opened it.' She took a great breath, half laughing, half sobbing. âOh, you'll never guess. It's from Helen. She couldn't remember my address, you see, so she sent it to the shop. She's written from Durham and she's asked if we could meet. Oh, can you believe it? I feel that I might just burst into tears,' said Isobelâand did so.
She stretched her arms out on the table, buried her face in them and wept. Sidney watched her anxiously and moved closer to Will
who, weak with relief, turned round at last to look at her. Bea grimaced comically at him and patted Isobel on the shoulder.
âIt is certainly wonderful news, my dear. Definitely bottle-worthy. How about that wine you've got there, Will?'
âAbsolutely.' Will pulled himself together. âOr perhaps something a little lighter. I've got a rather pleasant Chardonnay, haven't I, Sidney old chap ⦠?' He talked to himself and Sidney, attempting to reassure Sidney and bring himself under control. For one terrible moment it had seemed that he might be going to lose Isobel. âGlasses,' he murmured. âCorkscrew â¦' He touched Isobel briefly on passing and she gripped his hand, still sobbing. He held on tightly, swallowing a little, and smiled at Bea, who watched tolerantly. She had no idea of Will's real feelings for Isobel but saw that he was moved by her happiness.
âI thought I'd never see her again, you see,' explained Isobel, mopping her cheeks. âSorry. I'm just completely over the top.'
âAnd why not?' asked Will. âI am so happy for you. Does she suggest a time for this meeting?'
âWell, she's just about to do her finals.' Isobel fished the letter out of her bag. âAnd it seems that she's been offered a research job at Bristol University.' She glanced down the page. âShe's coming down at the end of June and has asked if we could meet then. She doesn't say much else.'
âIt must have been a rather difficult letter to write,' remarked Bea thoughtfully. âAfter all this time.'
âIt is a bit tentative,' agreed Isobel, âbut it's a start. I shall write back at once. No reproaches or recriminations. I shall say that I can't wait to see her.'
Will smiled at this eager generosity. âGood for you,' he said. âWhere will it take place?'
âHere,' said Isobel at last. âAt the cottage. I know it's on my ground but she has no place down here and I can hardly go to Modbury. I don't want to meet in a pub or some public place.'
âWell, here's to a new beginning.' Will distributed glasses. âMay the meeting be crowned with success â¦'
Â
IT WAS AFTER LUNCH, when Isobel had disappeared to the cottage to write her letter to Helen, that the subject of Adrian Pearson resurfaced. Will dialled the London number and spoke to a young woman who confirmed that Adrian Pearson was one of their agents. She told him that the items purchased were distributed to various showrooms throughout the country. The agents were given a list of pieces that were required so that they were usually placed very quickly, often to a waiting customer, which was why the agents were able to pay cash at once.
âNo joy there,' reported Will to Bea, âalthough I should like to have a look at that office. Pity London is so far away. They count on that, I expect.'
Bea stared at him. âGiles!' she said, as one inspired. âGiles could go and check it out.'
âBrilliant!' said Will softly. âSo he could. That would be a start.'
âOnce we know what's going on that end,' said Bea, âwe might have some idea as to how to lay a trap for him. Meanwhile, perhaps we should let him visit us again. Just to keep him on the hook.'
âI'll phone Tessa for Giles's number and then I'll phone Mr Pearson,' said Will. âI must say I rather liked that boy.'
âGiles?' Bea began to stack the washing-up on the wooden draining board. âMmm. I think he's in love with her.'
âIt sounds silly,' said Will, picking up the tea cloth and standing by, âbut I felt that he was more right with her than Sebastian, if you know what I mean.'