Rogue in Porcelain (11 page)

The waitress took their order – tea and cakes for two – and as she moved away, Rona began, ‘You say you're new to the area?'

‘Yes, I only arrived yesterday. I'm still trying to find my way around.'

‘Is this a permanent move, or are you just visiting?'

‘Actually, it's my job: I work for a market research firm, and have to do some initial fact-finding. I'll be here for a week or ten days this first visit, depending on how things pan out. Incidentally, could you recommend somewhere reasonable to stay? I doubt if expenses will cover the Clarendon, which is where I spent last night.'

‘Well, you did choose the town's premier hotel. There are several others dotted around. How central do you have to be?'

‘No problem there; I have my car.'

‘The Lansdowne and the Pierpoint are both in Alban Road, which runs across the top of Guild Street, or there's the Irving in Windsor Way, in the opposite direction. That's more of a commercial hotel, but perhaps that's what you're looking for?'

Julia made a little face. ‘Between you and me, I hate
all
hotels. I spend far too much time in them, and they all seem totally soulless.'

Their tea arrived, and Julia, who appeared to have taken charge, passed the cake tray to Rona. ‘Have you lived here long?' she asked.

‘All my life, apart from a stint at university.'

‘Lucky you. I should think it was a lovely place to grow up.'

‘It was, yes. Where do you come from?'

‘Oh, I'm like the Flying Dutchman. I never settle long anywhere, but I was born in Dorset, and my family are still there. My work takes me all over the place – abroad, quite often.'

‘It sounds as though you're in the wrong job, if you hate hotels!'

Julia laughed. ‘I love the job itself, so I have to put up with them.' She poured the tea. ‘Anyway, what kind of work do you do, that leaves you free to shop at three in the afternoon? Or are you a lady of leisure?'

‘No, I'm a freelance journalist, so I set my own hours. I've been working all morning, and needed a break.'

‘You're on the local paper?'

‘No, a glossy magazine. Out monthly, so it's not too hectic.'

‘You mean like
Vogue
or
Good Housekeeping
?'

‘Not quite so high-flown;
Chiltern Life.
If you don't come from round here, you've probably never heard of it.'

‘Afraid not, but I'll look out for it. Have you anything in the current edition?'

‘Actually, yes; I'm doing a series on local businesses.'

‘That sounds interesting. I'll certainly buy a copy.'

An idea had occurred to Rona, and she was wondering if it would be feasible. She bent to pick up her bag. ‘Would you excuse me a minute?'

‘Of course.'

In the cloakroom, she took out her mobile and dialled her mother's number.

‘Mum, it's me,' she said, when her mother answered. ‘When did you say your lodger's due?'

‘Tuesday the eighteenth. Why?'

‘But the room's ready now?'

‘Yes. What is this?'

‘I've just met someone who's here on business and who hates hotels. How would you feel about putting her up? She'll be here for a maximum of ten days, so she'll be out of the way before What's-her-name arrives.'

‘Oh Rona, I really don't know . . .'

‘She seems very nice.'

‘She mightn't want to come.'

‘I bet she'll jump at the chance. What do you think? It would break you in gently.'

‘All right; you can mention it to her, and see what she says. As long as she's out before Easter.'

‘Thanks, Mum. I'll ring you back.'

Rona returned to the table, to find Julia making friends with Gus, who was in his customary place underneath it.

‘What a well-trained dog you have,' she said. ‘What's his name?'

Rona told her. ‘Look, I've had an idea,' she began. ‘But you must say if it doesn't appeal to you.'

Julia straightened and looked at her enquiringly.

‘My mother is just starting a bed and breakfast business. Her first guest won't be coming till after Easter, and as you hate hotels so much, I was wondering if you'd like to go to her? It's a very nice bedsit, complete with TV and everything.'

Julia's face lit up. ‘Wouldn't she mind?'

‘I phoned her just now. She says you'll be welcome if you'd like to go, but there's no pressure.'

‘But Rona, that's
wonderful
! Thanks so much for thinking of it.'

‘How long are you booked in for at the Clarendon?'

‘Only last night and tonight. As I said, I was looking for an alternative.'

‘Then suppose we meet at the hotel after work tomorrow, and you can follow me in your car out to Belmont. It's about a twenty-minute drive, if that's all right?'

‘More than all right. I really am grateful – and I'm no longer sorry I bumped into you!'

‘She tried again to pay for the eggs and flour,' Rona finished, after relating the incident to Max that evening, ‘but of course I wouldn't let her. She's really nice, Max.'

‘Just as well it wasn't Friday she bumped into you; you'd have had more expensive items in your bag.' And, at her blank look, he added, ‘Barnie and Dinah are coming. Had you forgotten?'

‘Lord, yes, I had! What with concentrating on the Curzon project, and then all this, it had gone completely out of my head. Have you decided what we'll be eating?'

‘I was thinking of sesame chilli prawns as a starter, followed by pork chops
en papillote
, with mushrooms and cream. How does that grab you?'

‘Sounds delicious.'

‘And some kind of roulade for dessert. I'm still working on that.'

‘Almond and apricot? That always goes down well.'

‘OK, fine. How about making a note of what we'll need? It'll save time later.'

‘I must warn Julia to buy something for her evening meal,' Rona remarked as she sat down at the table with pen and paper. ‘And to leave the kitchen clear for Mum from seven onwards. That's part of the deal. She has a lovely face, Max.'

‘Your mother?'

‘Idiot! Too bad she's not here longer, or you could paint her.'

‘My workload's full enough at the moment. I still have to find a way of fitting in Michael's MG.'

‘Just a thought,' Rona said. ‘OK, master chef, my pen is poised. Shoot.'

By lunchtime the next day, Rona had extracted all she needed from the albums. She now had a mental picture of several of the dignitaries who'd built up the pottery, and had earmarked two or three photographs for use in the articles. There'd been no arrangement for the albums' return; presumably she'd take them with her on her next visit. In the meantime, she must get down to meeting those older members of the family who were still alive.

She stared for several minutes at Finlay's embossed card, propped up against her pen-holder. Better to email rather than phone, she decided; then he can email back with the details she requested.

She went online and typed quickly.
The albums have been a great help, thank you. I should now be most grateful to have contact details for your mother, and also for Mr and Mrs Charles, and Mr and Mrs James, Curzon. Perhaps you could let me know whether they'd prefer a letter or phone call in the first instance. Best wishes, Rona
.

His reply came within the half-hour. The Charles Curzons were apparently on the point of moving, and though he supplied the new address, he suggested she delay contacting them for at least ten days. The addresses and phone numbers of his mother and Uncle James were also given, with the opinion that, since they already knew of her involvement, a phone call was all that would be needed. He ended:
Please let me know if there's any other way I can be of help. Regards, Finlay.

Deciding there was no time like the present, Rona lifted the phone and punched in the first number.

Elizabeth Curzon turned as her husband came into the room.

‘The girl Sam told us about has just phoned; she wants to meet us.'

James raised an eyebrow. ‘What girl is that, exactly?'

‘The journalist,' Elizabeth said impatiently. ‘You know, the one who's going to write about the firm.'

‘So did you make an appointment?'

‘Yes, for tomorrow morning. That's all right, isn't it?'

‘As long as it doesn't go on too long; I'm playing golf at two. Why does she want to see me, anyway? It's not as though I'm actively involved any more.'

‘It's the family history she's interested in, and memories of the old days.'

‘Well, my memory's not what it was. Not sure I'll be much help to her.'

‘That's nonsense,' Elizabeth said roundly. ‘You and Charles have a wealth of stories about your father, and the innovations he introduced.'

James glanced at the grandfather clock, which was gearing up to chime midday. ‘Talking of Charles, I wonder how he and Sybil are getting on.'

‘No doubt we'll get a blow-by-blow account over supper.'

‘Awful upheaval,' James continued, ‘moving house at their age. So much to sort through and throw away.'

‘Perhaps we should be thinking of doing the same; “down-sizing”, I believe they call it now.'

‘Not on your life!' James declared. ‘When I leave this house, it will be feet first.'

‘Coppins sounds very pleasant,' Elizabeth said pensively. ‘And the garden here really is on the large side.'

‘Jackson keeps it trim enough, and you know you'd miss the fresh vegetables. In any case, the last thing we want to do is trot along in Charles's wake. He wouldn't thank us for it, mark my words.'

‘There are other places beside Coppins,' his wife pointed out. ‘I'm not saying there's any immediate rush, just don't close your mind to the possibility. If I'm honest, I'm beginning to find the stairs rather a trial. A bungalow or ground-floor flat might be a very sensible move.'

James drew his bushy eyebrows together, uncomfortable at this reminder of time passing. ‘Shouldn't be surprised if Charles and Sybil have second thoughts in a month or two, and regret the move.'

Elizabeth didn't reply. She had planted the seed in his mind, and was content for the moment to let it germinate.

Julia was awaiting Rona in the lounge of the Clarendon. Beside her was a small wheeled suitcase and, laid on top of it, two cellophane-wrapped bouquets.

She stood up as Rona walked in, and handed her one. ‘For you, and the other's for your mother,' she said. ‘As an expression of my thanks.'

‘Oh, Julia, they're lovely, but you really shouldn't have. Thank you very much.'

Julia pulled up the handle of her case. ‘By the way, what's your mother's name? I forgot to ask.'

‘The same as mine,' Rona replied, her nose still buried in the bouquet. ‘Parish is my maiden name, which I use professionally.' She smiled. ‘In fact, most of the time, to be honest. It's who I
am.
'

‘Good for you. So what's your husband called?'

‘Max Allerdyce.'

Julia frowned. ‘That sounds familiar. Should it?'

‘It depends. He's an artist, so he's occasionally mentioned in the press.'

‘Perhaps that's where I've heard it.'

‘I meant to say: you do realize Mum only does bed and breakfast?'

Julia nodded. ‘I bought myself something for supper, in the hope I'll be able to cook it there.'

‘That's a relief; I should have warned you. Yes, you'll have the use of the kitchen till seven. It has a table, so you can eat there too if you prefer, and keep the cooking smells out of your room. OK, let's go. I parked behind the hotel; I presume that's where your car is?'

Guild Street was snarled up with rush-hour traffic, and the first part of their journey was frustratingly slow. Rona, anxious that other cars might insert themselves between them, kept an eye on the rear-view mirror in case Julia fell too far behind, and was relieved, as Guild Street turned into Belmont Road and the traffic eased, to see she was still on her tail. From there, they were able to proceed at a more normal speed, and reached Maple Drive a few minutes later.

Avril seemed the more nervous of the two, Rona thought as she introduced them. It was an odd experience, seeing her mother and the house she'd grown up in through Julia's eyes, and she felt a stab of fierce protectiveness for them both. Julia, however, seemed delighted with everything, and certainly her presentation of the bouquet eased the situation. At Avril's invitation, it was Rona who went upstairs with her and showed her the room.

‘I still think of it as Grandma's,' Rona admitted, ‘but it's had a considerable revamp in the last month or two, bringing it much more up to date.'

‘It's lovely,' Julia enthused. ‘It feels like home already. I'm sure when your mother's proper guest arrives, she'll love it.'

‘I'll leave you to unpack, then. But bear in mind that it's almost six o'clock. How long will your supper take?'

‘Don't worry, I shan't blot my copybook on my first evening. I purposely chose a quickie for tonight. Goodbye, Rona, and thanks again. I'll be in touch.'

Rona went downstairs, sought out her mother, and kissed her cheek.

Avril seemed surprised but gratified. ‘What was that for?'

‘To say thanks for having her. She's sweet, isn't she?'

‘She seems very nice, and it was kind of her to bring flowers.'

‘As I said, knowing she's here for only a week or so will break you in gently, and give you a chance to pick up on anything that might need adjusting.'

‘The marmalade pot will be christened tomorrow,' Avril said with a smile.

‘Good! I'll think of it as I dig mine out of the jar! I must be going, Mum; I've an interview in the morning, and I need to list the things to ask.'