Asking For Trouble (26 page)

‘Did she talk about anything else?’ Ariadne’s sharp eyes rested on my face.

I felt myself blush. ‘No. She grumbled a lot. I don’t think she was very happy with us. I’m not surprised, not if she was used to living here.’

‘Obviously,’ Ariadne said, ‘she wasn’t happy here, either, or she’d have stayed with us.’ There was bitterness behind the words although her voice sounded calm enough.

I told her I was sure that Terry had simply been going through a phase. That she’d have come back eventually. It was such a beautiful place and there was so much here. The fact that she’d been so miserable in London showed how much she must have missed them all at the Astara.

She made no reply. It was as if I hadn’t spoken. I felt horribly embarrassed.

We sat for a while. Ariadne just looked ahead of her at the view of the house. Though she was old her profile showed what a beauty she must once have been. Her skin was still fine, though wrinkled, and her nose, the line of her forehead and her deepset eyes were classical in form. Her hands, folded now in her lap, had long thin fingers and her rings were loose. But the hands were sinewy and I remembered that she’d been a horsewoman before her accident. I knew I was frightened of Ariadne. Not in the way I had been frightened when pursued, as I thought, in the lane. But frightened in a way more difficult to explain. There was no way I could talk to her without seeming crass, and in the presence of this poised former beauty, that appeared almost like a sin.

Nevertheless, I tried again. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I know it sounds as though I’m interfering and making this worse for you all. But I shared a house with her. I want to know what happened to her. After all, we – I – found her!’ I finished by blurting out.

I was beginning to feel a little aggrieved. After all, the police had grilled me and Nev and Squib and made us feel like assassins. They were still not satisfied now. When I got back to London, Janice would be round to my gungy flat the minute she heard I was there. Perhaps Ariadne didn’t feel like talking about it to me. But she had no right to cut me out of the whole affair as if I were not already a part-player in it.

She seemed to be thinking it over. Eventually she said, ‘Yes, you did, I was forgetting. How very difficult for you and your friends. I dare say the police were unpleasant.’

‘Yes, they were.’ Parry, at least. In case she was wondering, I added, ‘She was
not
killed by anyone living in the house. I know I didn’t do it and I know the others didn’t. You must believe me, it’s the truth.’

‘I believe you, Francesca. I think I am a fair judge of character.’

There was no way I was going to finesse my way into saying what I wanted to say. I blundered in. ‘Mrs Cameron, you know, you might be in danger? Whoever killed Terry, he – or she – it might be something to do with this house or the stud.’

She was watching me work up another sweat, this time of embarrassment. ‘My dear,’ she said, ‘you really ought not to worry about me. I am quite capable of taking care of myself, you know.’ She sounded faintly amused.

That’s what I’d said to Ganesh, about myself. He hadn’t believed me and I didn’t believe Ariadne. But there was nothing I could do about it. I began to appreciate how frustrated Ganesh must feel about my obstinacy, and how useless. Ariadne didn’t want to believe anyone could walk out here to this lonely corner of the garden and, quite unseen by anyone at the house, just reach out and tighten the gauzy scarf which encircled her neck.

As if she could read my mind, she said, ‘It is my home, Francesca. I hope I’m safe in my own home!’

I hoped she was, too.

‘Lunchtime, I fancy,’ she went on. She reached down and released a catch on the side of the chair. She turned it manually with a push of her deceptively thin hands, preparing to return to the house. Only when it was in position, did she press the electric button and start up, whirring quietly as it juddered along the bumpy path. I walked a little behind her as there wasn’t room alongside.

‘I wish’, Ariadne said conversationally, as if I were quite the ordinary sort of visitor to whom she was showing off the garden, ‘that you could have seen the house when my husband was alive. The gardens were so much better kept then.’ She raised her voice slightly so that I could hear, behind her.

I confessed I’d been told about the origins of the Astara Stud and how it had come by its name. I had no idea how long horses lived but it seemed unlikely she still had the original animal, Astara. I asked, instead, how many foals he’d sired and whether any of them had inherited his name. Were the horses here named like racehorses, which, as I understood it, got names based on their sire or dam’s name?

‘There has only been one Astara,’ she said. ‘And after the accident, he was shot.’

I was so startled, I stopped and let out a squawk of dismay.

She braked the chair and looked back at me, eyebrows raised quizzically.

‘He was injured, too, unfortunately.’

‘I see,’ I said and asked whether he’d broken a leg. I had an idea that once horses broke legs, they were put down.

‘No, but he was left permanently scarred and temperamentally uncertain. Why are you so shocked? Death isn’t the worst thing.’ She tapped the arms of her chair. ‘There is worse. When one sees an animal which has been so beautiful and which one has cared for so long, reduced to a twitching wreck, would it be better to prolong its miserable life? No. Sometimes, a bullet is kinder. I’ve never feared death myself. I feel sometimes I’ve lived too long. The Greeks used to say that those whom the gods loved, died young. Death preserves beauty, strength, grace and innocence. Life has a way of destroying them. A beautiful thing, once damaged beyond recall, is better destroyed.’

The chair whirred into life and trundled on towards the house. I followed silently behind her. I wanted to cry out that she was wrong. That she misunderstood what life was about. That it wasn’t a world just for the young and beautiful and rich. It was a world with a place in it for me, Squib and Mad Edna, too. That the faceless planners who had decided to demolish our squat had reasoned as she was reasoning. That it couldn’t be saved, wasn’t worth saving, was too far gone. But we’d loved that house with all its peeling plaster and leaking rooftiles, and given a chance, we’d have saved it.

But I knew, if I tried to tell her this, she wouldn’t listen. I realised now why she scared me so. And was this why Terry had been afraid? Terry, the beautiful doll of a grandchild and great-niece, who had been destined to receive everything which Ariadne and Alastair had to give. But the doll had tumbled from her pedestal and broken, become a sharp-faced, shop-soiled, streetwise brat, ‘temperamentally uncertain’, unable to be restored.

‘A beautiful thing, once damaged beyond recall, is better destroyed.’ How terrible those words were. My head was filling with thoughts which froze me with such horror, that I thrust them away from me in revulsion.

Chapter Fifteen

Ariadne didn’t lunch with the rest of us. I gathered she lunched in her room and rested until the evening.

Alastair and Jamie were whispering conspiratorially as I entered the dining room and greeted my appearance with an ill-subdued glee. There was absolutely no mention at all of Marcia’s visit – and none of Watkins. Perhaps part of Alastair’s good humour was due to Marcia having managed to smooth things over. I knew he’d been angry with her before. She must have said all the right things this time.

‘Got a little surprise for you!’ he chuckled.

I didn’t like the sound of that. I looked inquiringly at Jamie. His bland expression made me feel worse. Their manner suggested they’d planned a jolly jape of the sort which generally leaves a third party humiliated and helpless. I couldn’t quell the uneasy feeling I was to be the victim.

‘After lunch,’ crowed Alastair. ‘Eat up.’ The condemned man being presented with his last meal probably got that sort of grim encouragement.

They ate well at the Astara, three cooked meals a day, including breakfast, and I was hungry. Lunch was Toad in the Hole, the sausages peeking coyly through the curled brown batter. It was followed by cheese and biscuits. Simple but substantial fare and, after it, I rather felt like going and taking a siesta myself. It wasn’t to be.

Ruby appeared, obviously part of the plot, carrying a pair of riding breeches, a hard hat and soft-topped boots.

‘They belonged to young Theresa,’ she said. ‘Seeing as you got her gumboots on this morning, you’ll be able to get your feet in these and the jodhpurs will fit.’

My heart sank. It was clear where this was leading.

‘Can’t let you leave without getting you up on a horse,’ said Alastair merrily. ‘Kelly will saddle up old Dolly for you. Quiet as a lamb. Jamie is going to show you a bit of our countryside. The way to see it is from horseback.’

I didn’t want to be shown the countryside by Jamie and I certainly didn’t want to do my sightseeing from the back of a horse, but argument was clearly useless.

Togged up in my equestrian finery (the boots pinched and the jodhpurs fitted like second skin), I tottered out to the stableyard accompanied by my two supporters. Jamie looked the goods in his riding gear, very dashing. Grandma Varady and all those Hungarian hussar ancestors would’ve approved. I didn’t know where Ganesh was. I hoped he wasn’t wandering around the place, partly because he might be seen – and partly because he might see me in this ridiculous get-up.

Kelly was waiting in the yard, holding the bridle of a grey mare. She didn’t smile. I was still the rival and it was possible she was about to be revenged.

I was slightly encouraged by the fact that Dolly herself appeared to be half-asleep, eyes closed and one hind hoof hitched up in rest position. But my relief, if any, was cancelled by the sight of Joey Lundy, lurking in the background with a smirk on his unlovely countenance.

‘Here we are, my dear!’ cried Alastair, slapping the nag on her neck. ‘Give the lady a leg up, Lundy!’ Dolly opened her eyes and twitched her ears. If ever a horse could be said to sneer, she did.

Lundy sidled over and stooped, cupping his hands. They all stood round me, blocking any escape. I had no choice but allow myself to be catapulted into the saddle.

The one and only time I’d ever sat on anything with four legs was when I was very small and was put on a donkey on the beach one summer. I must have been about four years old at the time and I yelled blue murder to be lifted down again. I felt the same way about it now. It seemed an inordinately long way up. Dolly’s neck was very narrow and insubstantial, viewed from above, and it and the animal’s head appeared way below me. I felt I was sitting up there in the saddle with nothing at all to prevent me pitching forward.

Kelly was fussing around me, giving instructions, showing the correct way to hold the reins and position my feet in the stirrups. Jamie, meantime, had swung into the saddle with the greatest of ease and looked as if he was about to lead the charge of the Light Brigade.

‘We’ll avoid roads,’ he said kindly. ‘So you won’t have to worry about traffic. We’ll cut over the fields.’

This reduced the likelihood that Ganesh would see us, which was a relief.

‘You’ll thoroughly enjoy yourself!’ cried Alastair, waving us away. Kelly raised a hand in silent salute like a gladiator in the arena.

Lundy, I noticed from the corner of my eye, slipped away as we walked sedately out of the yard. His whole manner suggested someone up to no good.

For a while it went rather better than I’d expected. We crossed several fields of pasture, one of them with mares and foals in it. The youngsters were attractive with their spindly legs. I wasn’t thoroughly enjoying it, but I was
almost
enjoying it.

Dolly behaved herself impeccably, despite having a novice aboard. She plodded along in her half-asleep way. Jamie, efficiently opening and closing gates as required, continued to play the gallant escort, pointing out local landmarks. I still wasn’t quite sure what the purpose of this whole outing was and eventually I asked him, point blank.

‘Alastair’s idea,’ he said briefly.

‘I didn’t expect you’d volunteered to give me the guided tour, Jamie. But I can’t imagine why Alastair thought I’d be keen. He knows I’m no country girl.’

Jamie’s horse snorted and tossed its head as emotion communicated itself from rider to mount. ‘I hope to God he isn’t trying to turn you into one!’ Jamie growled. ‘The idea’s grotesque.’

He turned a direct stare on me. ‘And just remember! You may be literally in Theresa’s boots right now, but it’s as near as you’re going to get to taking her place. I’ve already warned you. No way will I allow you to insinuate yourself into the old people’s favour.’

I was furious and told him what I felt about that suggestion. My anger bounced off him. I followed behind him as we progressed Indian file across a field towards distant trees. It occurred to me when I’d simmered down a little, that Jamie himself felt insecure in the old people’s affections, or he wouldn’t be worried about me. Perhaps, for all his assiduous attention to Watkins, the solicitor had refused to tell him the contents of Ariadne’s new will. Until Jamie knew his name was on that document, he couldn’t relax.

Sometimes the direct approach pays off.

‘Jamie!’ I called out. ‘What will happen to the Astara Stud when Ariadne, say, decides to retire to Bournemouth?’

‘That’s Ariadne’s business!’ he shouted back. ‘And of no possible concern to you, Fran!’

And sometimes, the direct approach doesn’t.

Meanwhile, we’d reached a commercially planted plantation of conifers. A wide track skirted the edge of it. Now and again a wide swathe of clear ground ran off at right-angles between the trees.

‘Firebreaks,’ said Jamie, pointing up at a wooden watch-tower.

I asked if the plantation was privately owned, but he said it belonged to the forestry commission. He turned his horse’s head into one of the broad firebreak tracks and I followed. The trees rustled darkly to either side. It was a sinister spot. Jamie informed me there were deer in the woodland, but we’d be unlikely to see any at this time of day.