The Darkest Hour (29 page)

He had had a letter from his mother that morning full of excitement about the girl he had met and fallen for and now he was going to have to write back to her and tell her it was all off. He shook his head unhappily. He might as well go out for a pint.

‘Good to see you, Chris.’ Mike led the way into the sitting room at Rosebank and gestured his cousin towards a chair. ‘Long time no see.’

‘Did she tell you she came round?’ Christopher ignored the chair and strode towards the window. He turned and stood with his back to it. He was a short good-looking man with square features and neatly cut dark brown hair. His phone call an hour before had been curt, to put it mildly. ‘Did she tell you she talked her way into the house, terrified Frances and took unauthorised photographs of the paintings?’

Mike sat down on the sofa and leaned back, crossing his legs, trying for a relaxed look. ‘Lucy told me she went over to your house and that you were out,’ he said calmly.

‘Nothing else?’

‘She said she spoke to Frances. She didn’t mention taking any photographs.’ Mike stirred uneasily. ‘Did Frances say she was terrified? That seems odd. Lucy doesn’t seem to me the type to terrify anyone.’

‘Presumably because you have agreed to her demands and told her everything she wants to know. As Frances did in the end. I had to force it out of her. She wasn’t going to tell me about the photos, that was going to be a secret, apparently! I can always tell when she’s keeping something from me.’ He glared at his cousin.

Mike inclined his head thoughtfully. Poor Frances. He didn’t say it out loud. ‘I have told Lucy as much as I feel is relevant to her book. But then I don’t know of anything about Evie which should be a huge secret. If there is something there, Chris, I think you had better tell me what it is. So far I can see there’s nothing wrong with Lucy writing a biography. I would have thought it could do nothing but good to raise Evie’s profile. She was a great painter and she hasn’t had the recognition she deserves.’

Glancing at Christopher he was shocked to see he had gone very white. His lips narrowed, he was radiating fury. ‘Do you want people knocking on the door day and night demanding to see the house where she lived? Do you want people shouting that they have the right to rifle through your cupboards, looking for her belongings?’ Christopher asked angrily.

‘There is little chance of them finding anything here,’ Mike reproved gently, ‘you appear to have taken everything there was.’

‘She left it all to me!’ A patch of red appeared on the back Christopher’s neck. ‘I took nothing that her will didn’t entitle me to. And I don’t want people knocking on my door, especially spurious academics, trying to make a fast buck out of the family.’ His voice was rising.

Mike smiled. ‘Lucy is not a spurious academic,’ he said. ‘Her credentials are first class, as was one of her degrees.’ He was managing to keep his voice level with difficulty. ‘You still haven’t told me any good reason to veto a biography, Chris. Your inconvenience, because you happen to hold the lion’s share of her paintings, is just not good enough.’ He levered himself off the sofa, unable to sit still a moment longer. ‘What is it you’re trying to hide?’ He narrowed his eyes, studying Christopher’s face.

‘I am trying to protect the family.’

‘From what?’ Mike kept his voice even with extreme difficulty. ‘Prowling academics! That just doesn’t convince me. I’m sorry. If there is something there which warrants this attitude, Chris, you need to tell me what it is because as things stand you are not making any sense!’

‘What do you know about the Box Wood portrait?’ Christopher asked abruptly. He sat down suddenly, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands cupped under his chin. He held Mike’s gaze with ferocious intensity.

Mike eyed him cautiously ‘I’m not sure I know which one that is.’

‘It’s the one Laurence Standish bought at an auction in Brighton in February.’

‘Laurence Standish?’ Mike echoed, puzzled. Then he frowned. ‘You mean –’

‘I mean, Lucy Standish’s husband.’

There was a long silence. ‘She hasn’t mentioned it, has she?’ Christopher said at last.

Mike shook his head.

‘I understand it was destroyed in the car crash which killed him,’ Christopher added after a moment.

‘Lucy told you this?’ Mike asked, bewildered.

‘I haven’t spoken to Mrs Standish.’

‘So she told Frances?’

Christopher shook his head adamantly. ‘I heard it from someone in London who had spoken to the expert Standish was going to consult about the picture. He was going to make an offer for it once it had been authenticated.’ He gave an icy smile. ‘So, your oh-so-honest and above board academic hasn’t been altogether open with you, Mike. How strange. I thought she had told you everything.’

Taken aback, Mike was silent for a long moment, then at last he sat down again opposite his cousin. ‘If the picture was destroyed in her husband’s car crash it is perhaps hardly surprising that she hasn’t mentioned it. It must be part of an agonising memory.’

‘Certainly in the cash department. If it was authentic, and I think there can have been little doubt about that because I have Evie’s description of it, it was probably worth tens if not hundreds of thousands. I wonder if it was insured.’

Mike let out a disgusted groan. ‘Is money all you can think about?’

‘In this context, yes. I don’t know these people but they were on the make. She still is. Believe me, Michael, before you make a complete fool of yourself!’

‘No!’ Mike gathered his wits at last. ‘No, Lucy wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t believe you. I trust her.’

‘More fool you.’ Christopher stood up, shaking his head. ‘Well, I’ve warned you. And you had better tell her, if you are determined to go on associating with her after what I’ve told you, that I shall be speaking to my solicitor about her actions on my property. She will be hearing from him.’

‘He’ll be all right.’ Rachel looked at Evie, sitting opposite her at the kitchen table. Her words were as much to reassure herself as her daughter.

Evie gave a wan smile. ‘I prayed today. I asked God to look after them.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t even go down to the airfield.’

‘You’re thinking about Tony?’

Evie stared at her. ‘Of course I’m thinking about Tony! About Rafie too, of course, but Tony is so alone …’ Her tears brimmed again.

Rachel studied her face sadly. ‘I’m so sorry it didn’t work out, my darling.’

Evie clenched her fists. She compressed her lips into a miserable scowl to hold in the sobs. ‘He didn’t love me. I thought he did. I believed him.’

Rachel shook her head slowly. ‘He loved you, Evie. Anyone could see that. But those boys are under intolerable strain. Perhaps he just couldn’t cope with it all. Later, when it’s all over,’ she paused for a moment, trying to master her own voice, ‘maybe then he will come back.’ She heaved a deep sigh. ‘We have other things to worry about, Evie. If the Germans come –’

‘They won’t! The Air Force won’t let them!’ Evie let out a wail.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. ‘There are so many of them, Evie, and so few of our boys.’ She reached over and put her hands over her daughter’s. ‘Pray. That is all we can do. And you can paint and I can do what I can on the farm and everyone out there is doing the same. Your father, Eddie, all of them, willing our boys on.’

Mike walked into the Standish Gallery just after midday and stood staring round at the exhibits. After a few minutes Robin pushed back the chair on which he had been sitting at the desk at the back of the room and wandered towards him. ‘Can I help you, or would you rather look round uninterrupted?’

Mike jumped. He had been staring at a painting of the cathedral, lost in thought. He glanced over his shoulder, taking in the short, amiably smiling figure who had approached him.

‘I actually came in on the off chance that Lucy was here,’ he said after a moment.

‘She’ll be back later this afternoon.’ Robin studied the newcomer for a moment.

‘I heard she had a painting by Evelyn Lucas here,’ Mike said after another pause. ‘Or at least I believe she did some time ago. I was told it had been destroyed in a car crash. Is that right?’

Robin tensed. His hazel eyes narrowed behind his glasses. ‘Lucy’s husband died in the car crash,’ he said cautiously. ‘As to whether there was a painting in the car, I wouldn’t know. Are you a friend of Lucy’s?’ His voice had an edge to it now.

Mike nodded. ‘I’m Michael Marston. She has been working with me over at Evelyn’s studio. Perhaps she has mentioned it?’

‘Of course she has mentioned it.’ Robin continued to stare at him thoughtfully. ‘I don’t understand your enquiry. Why haven’t you asked Lucy about this?’

Mike shook his head wearily. ‘I have only just heard about the painting. I don’t know why she hasn’t told me that it existed.’

‘Then perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps it never did.’ Robin’s voice was sharp. ‘May I suggest you come back this afternoon if you want to speak to her?’

Mike hesitated for a fraction of a second then he nodded. ‘I’ll do that. I’m sure there has been a misunderstanding somewhere down the line.’ He turned towards the door.

Robin stood at the window and watched him walk slowly down the street. Only when he was out of sight did he go back to the desk and pick up the phone. ‘Lucy, ducky, I think we may have a problem.’

Lucy dived into the gallery door ten minutes later and ran upstairs. ‘Robin?’ She was panting. ‘Did he say who had told him?’

Robin was waiting for her in the kitchen. He shook his head. ‘You didn’t tell me you still hadn’t told him about the picture,’ he said reproachfully. ‘I might have put my big foot in it.’

She gave a quick anxious smile. ‘I have been feeling guilty about that but it just never seemed to be the right moment. With all these accusations flying around that I am in this just to make money it seemed wrong to waltz up to him and say by the way I have a large oil painting which is probably worth a bomb if it’s verified.’ She paused. ‘But who has told him the picture was in the car with Larry? I don’t understand that. Who else knows about it except for you and me?’

Robin drew in a deep breath. ‘I don’t like the sound of any of this, Luce.’ He glanced at the studio door. ‘I think you ought to be keeping that picture under lock and key.’

‘The gallery is alarmed, Robin. No one can get in here.’

‘Except by walking through the front door, coming upstairs and going into the studio. If this guy is a friend of yours what more natural than that you invite him up to the flat?’

Lucy was silent. ‘It’s his cousin, Christopher. Somehow he’s found out the picture exists.’

‘Or existed. Michael seems to think it was destroyed in the crash.’

‘So he must have known it was being taken to London for examination by David Solomon.’ Lucy went on thoughtfully.

Robin nodded. ‘Friends in the art world?’

‘But not such close friends that they knew Solomon was ill and had postponed the meeting,’ she mused. She walked over to the fridge, took out a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. She held one out to Robin. ‘Of course there is an awful lot of gossip in the art world, but even so, I thought this would stay under wraps until Solomon had seen it. He hasn’t rung me and I assumed he was being tactful Originally you told him we would get in touch when we were ready, didn’t you?’

Robin nodded. He sipped his wine. ‘What are you going to say to Michael when he comes back?’

‘I’m not inviting him upstairs.’ She glanced at the studio door. ‘There isn’t a lock.’

‘That can be sorted fairly swiftly, but not quick enough for today.’

‘Shall I deny it?’

‘You don’t want to show him the picture?’

She hesitated. ‘No, I don’t think I do. Not yet.’

‘The longer you leave it the harder it will be to tell him in the end.’ Robin eyed her shrewdly.

Lucy exhaled loudly. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best. He will find out in the end but I don’t want him to see it yet. I just don’t. There is a mystery there, Robin. I think Christopher knows what it is and I think he wants to make sure I don’t find out.’

Robin grinned. ‘What a mistake! He is obviously not an expert on the female mind otherwise he would realise that mysteries have to be solved.’

She gave him a gentle punch on the arm. ‘As if you would know.’

He chuckled to himself as he leaned against the wall, arms folded. ‘Shall
I nip out and pick up a padlock?’

She shook her head. ‘A padlock will immediately draw attention to the fact that there is something there we don’t want people to see. Let’s put a proper lock on the door – that will be less obvious. For now, I won’t let Mike come upstairs. Simple as that. Besides, he’s hardly likely to barge upstairs uninvited. He doesn’t know that is, was, Larry’s studio.’

‘You think he will feel the same as his brother about the painting?’

‘It’s not his brother. Christopher is his cousin. I don’t know what Mike will think, Robin. I just want time to think about it myself. I didn’t mean to keep it from him. I’ve nearly told him on several occasions, but the time wasn’t quite right, and now I’ve messed up. I know I have. I would have told him in the end, obviously, but the fact that Christopher is so against me makes me suspicious. Larry always used to say I had a suspicious mind.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘But there was usually a good reason.’