When the Devil Drives (20 page)

Fiona gave a shrill laugh. 'Good heavens, constable! You surely don't

think my husband burned down his own business?'

The room was spinning now, faster and faster, out of control. When

the devil drives, thought Joanna, and fainted.

THERE was darkness all around Joanna. Her eyelids felt weighted and

she struggled feebly to open them.

'Take it easy,' a voice said. 'Relax. It's all right.'

There were fingers clasping hers, holding them tightly, pulling her

back from the all-pervading blackness. She looked up into Cal's face.

He looked weary and grimy, and the smell of smoke hung around

him.

She said absurdly, 'It's you.' Then, 'I feel sick.'

'Lie still,' he told her. 'It will pass.'

She was lying on the drawing-room sofa, she discovered. Over his

shoulder she could see Philip looking equally dishevelled, and Fiona,

wide-eyed and twittering.

'What happened?' she asked dazedly.

'You passed out. Driscoll and I walked in, and found you stretched on

the carpet, with Mrs Chalfont having hysterics over you, and a young

bobby trying to bring you round.'

'I remember,' she said slowly. She was beginning to remember

altogether too much. Why the policeman had been there, and what

Fiona had said, just before the darkness closed in. Simon, she

thought, desperately. Oh, Simon. 'The policeman—where is he?' She

tried to sit up, but Cal pushed her quietly but firmly back against the

cushions.

'He's just gone. He'll come back later.'

'Will he?' Her eyes searched his face, looking for a comfort she didn't

find. 'Is—is the fire bad?'

'About as bad as it could be. The smoke detectors couldn't have been

working as well as they should be.'

Or they'd been tampered with. The unspoken comment seemed to

hover in the room.

After a pause, Cal went on, 'It will all have to be gone into, naturally.'

'All that stuff,' Philip muttered. 'All those completed orders. God, this

is a disaster!'

'But we're insured,' Fiona insisted. 'Heavily insured. Simon told me

we were. The insurance will pay.'

Joanna moved restively, and Cal looked down at her.

He said, 'It's time we all tried to get some sleep. Can you walk to your

room?'

She swung her legs to the floor, and stood. The room swam. Cal's arm

was there, suddenly, like an iron bar supporting her.

'Obviously not.' He picked her up in his arms as if she were a child,

and started for the door.

'Now just a minute,' Philip began hectoringly. 'I don't know what

gives you of all people the right to march in here and take over --'

'We'll discuss that in daylight. In the meantime, look after your sister.

This must have been a shock for her.' Cal eyed him coldly, and Philip

subsided, reddening.

Cal carried Joanna out into the hall, and towards the stairs. Under her

cheek, the thud of his heart was firm and steady. Her own pulses were

going haywire, and she was trembling deep inside. How could he not

know? she thought. How could he not care?

'You'll have to direct me,' he said as they went up the stairs.

'It's to the left. The second door along.' Her voice sounded small and

shaky.

He shouldered his way in with her, and put her down on the bed, with

an impersonal efficiency that chilled her. He'd carried her before, she

thought, but that had been in some other age, some other existence.

'Try and rest,' he directed brusquely. As he straightened, she put a

hand on his arm, gripping his sleeve.

Don't leave me. The words rose to her lips and had to be bitten back.

Instead she said, 'What's going to happen?'

'There'll be an investigation—a full inquiry. The insurance company

will insist.' His expression was unreadable.

Joanna bit her lip. 'There's no way it can be avoided?'

'None. It's out of our hands.' He looked at her, his mouth tightening.

'Are you going to be all right? Shall I ask someone to come and be

with you?'

'I'm fine,' she lied. She gave a small, strained laugh. 'I've never fainted

in my life before. That's usually Fiona's prerogative.'

He didn't smile back at her. 'Try not to worry too much. There's

nothing you can do. It's just one of those things.' He detached her

fingers from his sleeve, gently but very definitely. 'I must go. I'll—see

you around.'

She nodded, suppressing the sob rising in her throat, as he walked

away from her to the door. His whole attitude was making it clear she

had nothing to hope for from him. He'd meant every word he'd said at

their last meeting.

Cal went out and didn't look back.

Joanna lifted her clenched fist and pressed it against her lips.

So—that was it. It was all over. He was distancing himself while they

drowned in a new sea of troubles. But what else did she expect? she

asked herself wearily. He was hardly likely to leap to Simon's aid

again—not after last time.

But I can't let him go—just like that, she argued with herself. There's

so much I haven't told him—so much I need to say. He doesn't know,

for instance, that I've found out the truth about our grandparents. I

must tell him that, at least. He has a right to know.

She got off the bed and went to the door, stumbling a little over the

hem of her dressing-gown. As she made her way along the gallery to

the head of the stairs, she heard his voice in the hall below.

'No,' he was saying, 'there's no doubt at all—the fire was started quite

deliberately. All the evidence is there.'

'Have they any idea who's responsible?' Philip's voice was strained

and worried.

Joanna felt the breath catch in her throat as she listened..

'I think they're almost certain,' Cal said grimly. 'It's just a question of

finding him, and getting the truth out of him.' He paused. 'If Simon

should happen to show up here, tell him to get in touch with me

immediately. It's most urgent.'

'Yes,' Philip said heavily. 'Yes, I understand.'

A moment later the front door banged, and she heard Philip go back

into the drawing-room, talking too loudly and cheerfully to Fiona.

Joanna shrank back against the wall. All her worst fears were being

confirmed. It was like a bad dream come true.

Arson, she thought. And Simon had done it.
Simon.
He'd burned

down the Craft Company for the insurance. What was more, his guilt

was known. When he returned, he would be interviewed and arrested.

And if he was convicted, he would probably be sent to prison.

She felt sick again. The fool, she thought, hugging her arms across

her body. The idiot! How on earth could he have imagined he'd get

away with it? But of course, she reminded herself grittily, Simon

didn't think things through. That was why he was in his present

financial mess.

She went slowly back to her room and got under the covers of the

bed, still in her dressing-gown, shivering as if she would never be

warm again.

What was going to happen to them all? she wondered wretchedly.

They would lose the house, of course. That went without saying. Cal

would take it to recoup his losses. Her father would be robbed of his

only sanctuary. Simon's life would be wrecked and his marriage, such

as it was, ruined.

If only he'd given her some idea—some hint of what he was planning.

Maybe she could have talked him out of it. I should have guessed

from the way he spoke that he had something totally crazy in mind,

she castigated herself.

Oh, Si, I won't be able to rescue you this time.

Two lonely people had found love and a brief happiness together, and

from this two generations of disaster had sprung. Where would it all

end? she asked herself desolately.

But she could find no answer as she lay tossing and turning through

what remained of the night.

'I wish old Si would come back,' Philip grumbled. It was the

umpteenth time he'd said it, and Joanna felt her teeth gritting

automatically.

This had been one of the longest days of her life, she thought. The

phone had never stopped ringing. Mostly it was friends and

acquaintances calling to exclaim and condole, but sometimes it was

the Press who'd got wind of the arson rumour, and were much trickier

to fob off with 'No comment'. And twice it had been the police asking

politely if Mr Chalfont had yet returned, or if there had been any word

from him. Again the reply to both questions was in the negative. But

for how long would they continue to take 'no' for an answer?

At least Fiona was out of the way, she thought. Mrs Driscoll had

borne her off to Harrogate, baby-shopping, 'to take her mind off

things'. Not that Fiona seemed unduly troubled. Simon's continuing

absence made her fretful rather than genuinely anxious. Clearly the

deeper implications of the situation were lost on her.

Lucky Fiona, Joanna thought wryly.

Cal had not phoned. There had not been a sign or a message from him

all day. But then, what had she really expected?

'See you around.' That surely had to be the most laconic of dismissals.

Needless to say, her father had been disturbed by the comings and

goings in the night.

'You'd best tell him the truth, Miss Jo,' Nanny had advised. 'It'll only

fret him otherwise.'

I'll tell him part of it, Joanna thought wearily. The whole truth would

fret him far more.

Aloud, she said, 'Do you think he can take it?'

'For all he hasn't slept, he's grand this morning,' Nanny told her.

'Right as a bobbin.'

To her amazement, Anthony Chalfont had accepted the news that the

Craft Company was now a blackened ruin quite calmly. The

bewildered child remembering his mother and an old tragedy might

never have existed. He seemed his old self again. Joanna found

herself wondering if allowing himself to remember the truth, voicing

those early fears and traumas about his mother, had proved some kind

of catharsis for him.

'This fire is only' a temporary setback.' He sat straight-backed in his

chair, his hands folded tranquilly in his lap. 'Simon will have to deal

with it as such—find alternative premises while we rebuild. Has he

done so yet?'

Joanna hesitated. 'Simon's away on business at the moment. We

haven't been able to contact him yet.'

'Simon will look after things.' Her father looked over the sunlit

gardens. 'There was a time, Joanna, when I thought you should have

been born the boy. But Simon's doing well now. I have great faith in

him.' He nodded, smilingly. 'Great faith.'

'That's good,' she said, biting her lip. 'That's fine.'Or it would be until

Simon came out of hiding and gave himself up, she'd thought grimly.

What would the shock of that do to her father? Send him back into

some vague and clouded past again? She couldn't bear that.

Now she looked at Philip. 'There's really no need for you to wait here,'

she said. 'I'm sure you must have a million things to do.'

Philip pursed his lips. 'Can't really make many decisions without old

Si.' He shook his head. 'Should have told us where he was going.

Makes things very difficult when we don't know.'

Joanna looked down at the floor. 'How do you think the fire started,

Philip? What have the police told you?'

'Damned little.' Philip looked vaguely sullen. 'It's Blackstone they

confide in, not me. He seems to have taken over completely. Quite

extraordinary.' He gave a slight cough. 'I knew that he and Simon had

done business in some marginal way, but I didn't realise he was now a

regular visitor here.'

'He isn't,' Joanna said briefly.

'Oh?' Philip raised his eyebrows. 'Well, he seemed perfectly at home

last night, Joanna. There's been a few rumours around, I don't mind

telling you. I've always' dismissed them as rubbish, but the way he

came marching in here as if he owned the place made me think a bit.

Not to mention his arrival at the Craft Company yesterday.'

Joanna gave him a constrained smile. 'He doesn't own this house, I

can assure you.' Not yet, anyway.

Philip looked faintly sceptical. 'There was a time when a Blackstone

wouldn't have been allowed across the doorstep.'

'Perhaps,' Joanna said evenly. 'But feuds are such a waste of time, and

like most quarrels no one can ever really remember how they began.'

'I see,' said Philip, as if he did. 'Well, I felt I had to ask. After all, if

we're going to be seeing something of each other...'

Joanna stared at him. 'I agreed to have dinner with you,' she said,

'nothing more.'

'Oh, naturally,' Philip said hastily. 'But all the same, you can't deny it

would be altogether a bad thing if we decided in due course...' He

stumbled to a halt. 'I mean, Si and Fiona would be delighted.'