Silver Guilt (8 page)

‘I fear my poor home has only two bedrooms, Piers, or you would be a welcome guest.'

Old liar!

Piers continued, eager as a puppy dog, ‘Or if I did have too much, then I could always get the cab to take me back to the Nonesuch and stay over. Or just stay there and put Lina in a cab home.' Clearly, he was very keen on this date, even if a bit hazy on the details. Equally clearly, he didn't depend on profits from sales like Folkestone and Sutton Valence to pay for his social life. He beamed. ‘In fact, if Lina preferred, I could book us both rooms there, and return her to you in the morning.'

My sudden sneeze was genuine. ‘What Lina would prefer,' I said, with a little bit of sarcasm to show I didn't like being discussed as if I wasn't there, ‘is a quiet drink at the Nag's Head. Maybe a bar snack there. But there's no point in going for
haute cuisine
if I've got what Griff's got. I wouldn't taste a thing. Trouble is,' I added, ‘I may give it to you, too, Piers.' I reached for the tissues and sneezed, pretty unromantically, again.

To do Piers justice, the prospect of a head cold didn't seem to worry him, and he stayed and talked antiques with Griff – Griff talked, he listened – until Aidan was clearly bored. By then my nose was already glowing red, so he knew what he was in for. At last, it was opening time – the Nag's Head didn't go in for all day service – and we set out, on foot, through the thickening sleet. He offered me his arm and made sure he sheltered me under his golf brolly, so I gave him a few more brownie points.

Away from Griff and Aidan, not to mention Nella, he became quite funny and nice, talking just like an ordinary person, and I found I was enjoying myself. We had a pint and one of Dave the landlord's wonderful chicken pies apiece, with a plate of genuine home-made chips. What Griff called comfort food, though I didn't allow him to eat it more than once a month.

We agreed it would be a nice idea to email each other, and see each other the next time we were at the same fair. And he planted ever such a chaste kiss on my cheek. I was sorry that my snuffles prevented a nice snog. I thought he might kiss quite nicely.

This cold didn't just drip. It made you sneeze without warning. I'd have been a danger in the shop and didn't dare try restoring any of the china that needed my attention. And I didn't risk visiting Lord Elham, because his diet was so bad he might have caught flu from a fly, and I didn't want his death on my conscience.

In any case, it was better to give him and Titus the chance to spirit away any forgery equipment that might be hanging round. As for the owner of the spliffs, well, he might pay another visit and leave enough evidence for me to tackle Lord Elham about him.

Piers and I texted each other quite a lot, and rather sooner than I expected I was getting a row of ‘xxx's. I'd better send a few back. With his background, his education and his income all a bit close to Aidan's, I still wasn't sure he was my sort, but there was no one else on the horizon at the moment, and you never knew what might develop. And what girl in her senses would turn down the chance to be with such a gorgeous bloke?

Soon Folkestone was on us – not a large fair, just a couple of rooms in a big hotel. OK, it was the Grand Hotel, but we and the punters were sent round to a side door. There were a lot of collectibles, not just on Piers' stand either, which made Griff sneer, but some upmarket jewellers too and plenty of middle of the road dealers like us. We went because Griff had some regular customers, including one couple who could be relied on to buy any Mason's Ironstone jugs we found for them, and a woman who collected spectacle cases like the silver one I'd sold for Nella. But not at Nella's price.

Piers was at the far end of the suite of rooms from us, surrounded by what Griff described, quite fairly, as a regrettable collection of Ty Beanie bears in various bright colours. We exchanged a quick kiss as soon as he arrived, and a squeeze of the hand. It was understood that we'd try to have lunch at the same time, and maybe even a nice walk along the cliff top – on a clear day you can see France, though I didn't think there was any hope of that the way the clouds were dashing in. I did have a few doubts, though, about his wearing red cords and a clashing tan body warmer.

‘Oh, dear,' Griff sighed. ‘Not with those cornflower blue eyes and honey-coloured hair. You'll have to take him in hand, my angel – sartorially speaking, of course.'

Another familiar face was that of Arthur Habgood of Rose Cottage Antiques. I didn't kiss him, or even smile very much, because I knew that as soon as I looked remotely friendly he'd be on at me to do a gob swab for him to prove his theory that his daughter was my mother. Of course, she'd died years ago, which was how I'd been passed round foster parents like the proverbial parcel. At one time I'd have jumped at the chance of having a respectable blood relation. However, there's only so much identity a woman can change at any given time. I'd become someone's daughter, even though my father was far from respectable, and it seemed as if I might become someone's girlfriend. Becoming a genuine granddaughter, as opposed to Griff's honorary one, might be a step too far, as I told Piers over a coffee snatched between setting up and the arrival of the first punters.

‘Honorary? I thought you really were his granddaughter.' He sounded quite disappointed.

‘Nope. One of the things I don't really tell people unless it's useful is that my father's a lord. I'm his illegitimate daughter.' Griff had persuaded me not to use the word ‘bastard'.

One or two guys had even flinched at the term ‘illegitimate', and I'd been quietly dropped, but Piers didn't so much as blink. Neither did he ask which lord. ‘Some families are a right shower, aren't they? I've got a couple of oddballs in mine. Black sheep. So why don't you want to be Habgood's granddaughter? He seems a nice enough man.'

‘He sells damaged goods as perfect,' I said flatly.

Piers' eyes rounded. ‘How do you know?'

‘Because I recognized a majolica plate I'd repaired myself and sold him as restored. And damn me if he didn't try to palm it off as undamaged.'

His jaw set unexpectedly. ‘Even so, family's always useful.'

Since this was only the third time we'd met face to face, I didn't want to start arguing, but I was relieved when the doors opened and I had to scurry back to base.

For some reason today's fair was incredibly busy; when Piers was free I was refusing to let a punter haggle down my price too far, and when I'd extorted another fiver from him, Piers was up to the eyeballs in turquoise Beanie bears. So we didn't get to do lunch. The weather was really coming in by the time we'd finished and packed away, with great gusts of wind rocking the van and rain slashing into your eyes and nose. I could see Griff was getting nervous. Since Piers had to get safely back to Sevenoaks, I allowed myself a little worry too, and sent him on his way, without much protest. At least we managed a proper kiss. Which Arthur Habgood had to go and interrupt.

‘Oh, for God's sake—' Piers said.

Habgood just ignored him. ‘Lina, I've been trying to catch you all day. Please – for my sake, for my daughter, your mother's sake . . . It would mean so much for me to be able to welcome you into my family. A DNA test wouldn't take a minute. It wouldn't hurt.'

‘It might hurt Griff.'

‘It wouldn't change anything between you and Griff.'

‘If it wouldn't change anything, why are you so keen?'

‘Because – because . . .' He waved his hands around just as I did when I couldn't explain something I felt deeply about. Heavens, could you inherit gestures like that?

‘OK, I'll think about it,' I told him. But I felt bad, because I wasn't going to change my mind. Was I?

‘Why don't you push off and leave her alone,' Piers said. ‘You've had your answer.' He put his arm round my waist again and kept it there until Habgood had sloped off. ‘Now,' he said, ‘where were we?'

And proved me right. He was a very good snogger indeed.

I
t wasn't easy to feel sorry for Lord Elham. Ever. But when he phoned me, gibbering with terror, I managed to squeeze a drop of compassion for him. I couldn't make out anything except the word ‘police'.

I put my hand over the phone and asked Griff for advice. ‘It's my day for the shop,' I said, hoping Griff would say he couldn't spare me. I should have known better.

‘You'll have to go over, sweetheart,' Griff said, ‘and sort everything out for him. You can't make that cold an excuse any longer, you know.'

I still hadn't told Griff the full story about Lord Elham and the fag ends, or about his connection with Titus Oates. I wasn't about to now. So I just nodded and spoke to my father again. ‘I'll get over as quickly as I can.'

‘Now, Lina, now! They're putting purple gloves on and looking at everything.'

‘Ask to see their search warrant,' I said. ‘I'm on my way.'

It was hard to tell who was more pleased to see me, DS Morris or Lord Elham. I grabbed my father by the arm and pushed him towards the kitchen. ‘Go and make us all some green tea. I know you don't like it but it's good for you. Off you go.' I turned to Morris. ‘Don't say I didn't warn you. Now, do you have a search warrant?'

He flashed something that looked official.

‘And are all your officers trained in handling delicate china and glass? They'd better be. I know you were kind to me in Brum, but you're still the police and I'm afraid he's still my father. Someone's got to look after his interests, and that someone seems to be me.'

‘Lina? Where are you?' Lord Elham wailed.

‘I'm on my way!' I wasn't, but still.

‘He was offering us champagne,' Morris said. ‘All of us. The others have started looking in what seems the cleanest room.'

‘Looking but not touching, I hope. You'd have done much better to ask me over first, you know. What are you looking for, and why?'

Looking shifty, he shrugged. ‘Acting on information received.'

‘About what?' Hell, this was as bad as extracting information from Lord Elham.

He stood up straight and said, ‘We have reason to believe that he may have stolen property from the trustees of Bossingham Hall.'

‘I told you they let him keep everything that's in here!' Or so he'd said when I'd first met him. I wasn't sure I believed him, but I'd certainly seen nothing new arrive since we'd known each other.

He dropped his official posture and said, ‘There's been a recent spate of thefts, Lina – from some of the locked display cases.'

They held a load of rare pieces – English, French and German. ‘Which means some really good stuff. But how? They've got an alarm system and CCTV.'

‘Quite.'

‘A professional, then, maybe stealing to order,' I said.

Morris's eyes opened wide.

‘Come on, don't you think we know it happens? That's why reputable dealers won't touch stuff without knowing its provenance.' That was one of the first long words Griff had taught me, and one of the most important.

‘Lina!' came a shout from the kitchen. ‘Lina! The kettle's not working!'

‘Have you tried switching it on? OK, I'm coming!' I turned to Morris, one eyebrow raised. Aidan used the trick, and he'd taught me. Ironic, he said it was. ‘You think a man who can't make a cup of tea can deal with sophisticated things like CCTV?'

There was nothing for it but to sit Lord Elham down in front of a schools' science programme – there was no way I'd trust him with
Cash in the Attic
– and walk Morris's team through the rooms they needed to check.

Morris introduced me as Lord Elham's daughter. One woman constable had to stop herself curtsying, and a male colleague definitely touched his forelock. The rest greeted me with a mixture of relief and suspicion.

‘I'm his bastard daughter,' I said dryly, forgetting to worry about the word. ‘And I don't live here. But I do know the place. I can tell you if anything's been moved or if there's anything in here that I've not seen before. No! Don't touch that jug! It's four hundred years old.'

‘And you haven't sold it for him yet?' Morris asked, his own eyebrow raised. Ironically.

I nearly stuck my tongue out at him. ‘It's badly cracked and he's fond of it for some reason. Those plates over there are basically post-war tat. None of those glasses matches. I told you it was a mess, didn't I?'

‘Even so . . .'

There was a horrible sliding noise. ‘I tell you, Morris,' I said, jabbing the air with my finger because I really was alarmed, ‘you break one single thing and I tell the press you're hounding a man who's a public benefactor. Trust me, I'll tell you if there's anything you should look at.'

Eventually they got the message, and retired to the kitchen to drink tea. I walked Morris into every room we could open.

I was terrified there'd be gaps where Titus had removed whatever Lord Elham used for the activities I didn't want to know about, but Titus was too wily a bird for that. Everything looked as cluttered and messy as it ought. I thought I could smell pot in one of the rooms, but there were no fag ends lying about. Perhaps Titus had spotted them too, and decided to deal with them. He wouldn't want any impor . . . impertinent questions being asked.

At last Morris came to a halt, spreading his hands helplessly.

‘Well?' I asked. ‘You want to do a fingertip search, or do you trust me? I can't see anything here I'm not familiar with, and I don't think anything's missing.' I stopped short. This was a room I'd never really given a thorough going over – with so much else in the wing, this wasn't surprising.

The dratted man picked my hesitation up immediately. ‘Well? Have you spotted something?'