'Your mother too,' Joanna agreed, dead-pan, while inwardly she
recoiled, shrieking.
'Oh—er—yes.' For a minute he looked totally blank, to Joanna's
secret delight. But this was a line of conversation she had no wish to
encourage, she decided. She reached for her bag. 'If you'll excuse me
for a while, Philip, I think I need some air.'
'You're going out? But what if Simon rings?'
Joanna shrugged, evincing a nonchalance she was far from feeling.
'Then he can leave a message. After all, we can't sit here forever
waiting for his call.'
'I suppose not,' Philip agreed reluctantly. 'But I think I'll hang on here,
if that's all right. In case something crops up,' he added uneasily.
'Please do,' Joanna said cordially.
She drove straight to the Craft Company, and parked, staring in frank
disbelief through the windscreen. Although she'd been warned what
to expect, she still hadn't anticipated quite this level of damage. All
that remained of the building was a blackened shell.
She left the car and began to walk towards the ruin. There were other
onlookers around as well, she noticed. The air was still acrid, and she
coughed slightly, putting her hand over her mouth.
A small man attached by a leash to a large Labrador dog looked
round. 'Hell of a pong, eh?' he remarked with relish. 'Hell of a mess
too. They say it went up like a torch.'
'So it would seem,' Joanna said drily.
The little man lowered his voice and jerked his head conspiratorially
towards two men in dark suits, conferring over a file of papers. 'See
them? They're from the insurance—loss adjusters. They've been here
all afternoon. Bobbies all over the place too.' He winked. 'They
reckon it weren't no accident. Someone was seen running away,
seemingly.'
Joanna's heart missed a beat. 'Do they know who it was?'
'Couldn't say, I'm sure. That chap Blackstone would know. He's the
one who spotted him.' He bent down to pat his dog. 'All right, old lad,
I'm coming.'
Joanna bit back a gasp, as he wandered off. Cal had actually seen the
arsonist, she thought frantically,. But he'd said nothing about that at
the house last night. Why ever not? She swallowed. Perhaps the
police were setting a trap for Simon, and maybe Cal was afraid that
she'd warn him—tell him to keep away.
I can't just wait for it to happen, she thought violently. The Craft
Company is in ruins. I can't stand by and see the same thing happen to
our lives.
She half ran back to the car.
It was the same receptionist at the country club. She looked at Joanna
regretfully when she asked if she could see Mr Blackstone.
'I'm afraid he's not available, Mrs Bentham.'
'If he's busy, I'd be prepared to wait...'
The girl shook her head. 'You don't understand. Mr Blackstone has
left for the day.'
'Already?' Joanna asked despairingly. 'It really is most urgent that I
see him.'
The girl thought for a minute. 'Well, I do know where you'll find him,'
she said. 'I'm not supposed to give it out, of course, but --'
'I'd be eternally grateful.'
'He's up at Nethercrag,' said the receptionist. 'He's just bought a house
there. I've got the name somewhere...'
'It's all right.' Joanna summoned a smile. 'I—know what it is.'
Cal's car was parked outside the cottage when she arrived there. She
walked up the path and knocked at the door, not giving herself time to
think, to question the advisability of what she was doing, or change
her mind.
He answered almost at once. His brows snapped together when he
saw who it was.
She said, 'Don't send me away, please.'
'I wasn't considering it,' he said curtly. 'You'd better come in.'
The cottage smelled strongly of freshly applied paint, and there were
spatters of the stuff on his elderly shirt and jeans. 'I wasn't expecting
visitors.' He led the way into the sitting-room. 'Would you like some
coffee?'
'Later, perhaps,' she said, and flushed under the sardonic glance he
directed at her.
'So,' he said. 'To what do I owe the honour of this visit?'
She took a deep breath. 'I've just been down to the workshop.
Someone said you'd—actually witnessed someone running away.'
'How news does get around,' Cal said drily. 'That's basically accurate,
yes.'
'Have you told the police who you saw?'
'Naturally.' His frown deepened. 'What did you expect?'
'Nothing really,' she said with difficulty. 'I—hoped, perhaps, to
persuade you to hold your hand—not to give him away, until we'd all
had a chance to talk- to try and work something out.' She ran her
tongue round her dry lips. 'I suppose he'll go to prison.'
'It's possible, but unlikely,' he returned. 'Why are you so concerned?
I'd have thought you wanted him caught.'
'Want to see Simon destroyed?' she asked incredulously. 'Are you
mad?'
There was a silence, deep and unbroken as if both of them had
suddenly stopped breathing. Then,
'I think I must be,' Cal said slowly. 'What has Simon got to do with all
this?'
She stared at him. 'Why—everything, I'd have thought.'
'What makes you say that?'
She ran the tip of her tongue round her dry lips. 'Well, it was Simon
who you saw—wasn't it?'
'No,' he said. 'It was a vagrant called Tom O'Neill, better known
locally as Paddy Tom. He likes comfort at night, so he prefers to
break into buildings that are in use and doss down. He's been chased
from every mill and industrial estate in the West Riding, I should
think. He also likes a cooked supper, only last night his time-bomb of
a stove finally exploded, and nearly cooked him as well. The police
picked him up near Barnsley, still running.'
'Paddy Tom,' Joanna repeated. Suddenly she didn't know whether to
laugh or cry. 'But I thought...'
'You thought Simon had developed a sideline in arson.' Cal's brows
lifted in utter disbelief. 'Not very sisterly, or very flattering, especially
when he's down in London trying to retrieve the Chalfont fortunes
from my sinister clutches.'
'You know where Simon is?' Her voice was incredulous.
'Of course.' He sounded impatient. 'Although admittedly I'm not
supposed to. He's talking to a friend of mine in a merchant bank about
venture capital for the Craft Company.'
'How can you possibly know that?' Joanna sank down on to the sofa,
feeling that her legs would no longer support her. 'You asked me
where he was. You implied-—'
'I put Jeremy in touch with him in the first place. But I wanted to
check that Simon was following up the approach.' He paused. 'He
doesn't know anything about my part in all this, of course, and it's
essential he doesn't know.'
'But why?' She spread her hands helplessly. 'Why should you do
that?'
'To let him off the hook. To release him from any sense of obligation
to me. To provide the beginning of the end of this whole dreary
bloody mess.' Cal spoke with a kind of weary distaste. 'It's gone on for
too long—taken too much time and energy from all of us that could
have been better spent. As I told you, I want it over with.'
'Yes.' She drew a deep breath. 'But—you see—when you said you
wanted to see Simon urgently, I thought...'
'That I wanted to accuse him of burning down his business?' Cal
shook his head. 'On the contrary, I was planning to offer him a
temporary site on the mill complex while he rebuilds.' His mouth
twisted. 'He'll almost certainly refuse, but I'll have made the gesture,
and maybe, from now on, we can all get on with our own lives in
peace.'
Peace? she thought. What peace can there be when I'm being torn
apart like this? When your eyes don't meet mine? When you speak as
if we're mere acquaintances, and there's no warmth in your smile?
When you stay on the other side of the room?
She said unevenly, 'I seem to have made a major fool of myself, and I
apologise. I was too upset to think clearly. I'd better go.'
'You'll have that coffee first.' Cal gave her a critical glance. 'You look
like hell.'
She smiled pallidly. 'Ever the flatterer.'
When she was alone, she glanced round the room. Some df the
furnishings, the sofas for instance, she recognised from the apartment
at the country club. She remembered some of the ornaments too. And
in its accustomed position beside the fireplace hung Joanna
Chalfont's portrait.
He came back with a tray. She saw a cafetiere, pottery beakers and a
matching cream jug. He saw her looking, and smiled sardonically.
'It's all right—there are no unexpected additives this time, I promise.
Although you still look as if you could do with a night's sleep,' he
added frowningly.
'Is it any wonder?' She forced a smile in turn. She had to try for
lightness, she decided, and impersonality, if that was possible. She
glanced round brightly. 'So you decided to buy the cottage after all.
I'm glad.'
'Thank you.' He poured the coffee and handed her a beaker. 'I decided
it was time I had a proper home. The apartment was always
temporary.'
'You didn't want to move into your family's house?' It was more like a
mansion, she thought. Bigger and grander than Chalfont House in
every way.
'That was never a home,' he said. 'It was a statement—a declaration of
war, and I've finished with all that. I've had various offers from
people wanting to turn it into a private school, or nursing home. Or it
could be converted into flats. I'm in no hurry to decide.'
Joanna looked towards the fireplace. 'But you've still got the
miniature.'
'Family heirloom,' he said. He leaned back in his seat. 'A gift of love.'
'Yes.' She paused. 'Cal—I found out the truth for myself. I wanted to
tell you that. I know that they really loved each other. That she only
stayed with Grandfather for my father's sake. And I suppose for the
baby?' she added questioningly.
'The baby?' Cal's eyebrows lifted. 'Then you don't know all of it,
Joanna.'
She bit her lip. 'I—wondered. It was something Daddy said.' She
hesitated. 'You're telling me that it was Callum's child she was
expecting, not Jonas's?'
'Of course it was.' His face was fierce suddenly. 'Don't judge them too
harshly, Joanna. My grandfather was a widower, and lonely. Your
grandparents hadn't shared a room, or much of a life, since your
father's birth. Once Jonas had his son and heir, he assumed any decent
woman would be thankful to be done with that kind of thing. He had
women in the village he used when he felt the need.'
He sighed harshly. 'I suspect that being loved— being wanted was a
revelation to her. She assumed, naively, that as Jonas no longer cared
about her he would let her go once he knew the truth. But she misread
the situation. When she told him she'd fallen in love with one of his
employees and was pregnant by him, he nearly went mad. But it
wasn't his marriage he was trying to preserve. It was his pride, his
standing, his damnable self-importance. So he used the only weapon
he had. He told Joanna if she left him, she would never be allowed to
see her son again, and that he'd make the boy suffer for his mother's
wickedness.'
Joanna Shuddered. 'That's—monstrous!'
'Yes,' Cal agreed bleakly. 'No woman should be asked to cope with
that kind of blackmail. To protect your father, she gave in. She saw
Grandfather once more—to explain and say goodbye. It must have
been sheer hell for them both. He promised her that as soon as he'd
established himself, he'd come for her and take Anthony and the baby
too. That he'd fight for them all through every court in the land if need
be.' His mouth twisted. 'It never occurred to him, of course, that when
he came back she'd have—gone, and their child with her.'
'And that was when he decided on revenge.'
'Yes.' Cal's face was sober. 'Jonas had robbed him of a future with the
woman he loved. In turn, he'd take everything Jonas cared for. It was
as simple as that.'
'I can understand now why your grandfather was so bitter—so
implacable against our family.'
'He had the best of reasons. The mistake was to carry the bitterness
down succeeding generations. I should have put a stop to it a long
time ago.'
'Then why didn't you?'
Cal shrugged, his expression wry. 'Because, like my grandfather
before me, I made the mistake of wanting a Chalfont woman, and to
hell with the consequences. I should have settled for one of the girls
who wanted me instead. Life would have been safer—easier that