Pat felt a sudden impulse to shake the man. No wonder Davey Fletcher had gone driving off in a blizzard!
‘Poor Davey,’ said Tiff softly. ‘I wonderwherehe was driving off to?’
For a third time Son shrugged. ‘I wasn’t there,’ he said quickly. ‘I was doing a book event.’ Pat had a sudden vision of a bleak function room with seven people, snow falling past the windows. ‘I didn’t know he was planning on going anywhere.’ Son put his hands out in a gesture of resignation, with no discernible change to his amiable, slightly vacant expression.Too amiable? Too vacant?
‘Complete change of topic here.’ Tiff’s voice, whilst still sympathetic, contained a distinct ‘life moves on’ tone. ‘I don’t know if you can help me, Son – and this is horrendously cheeky of me – but I was reading on your blog how important colour is in the workspace.’
Son nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said placidly.
‘Only I’m realigning my home office, and I’d really welcome your view,’ said Tiffany. She spoke with such sincerity that for a panicky second or two Pat wondered if she was planning to redecorate the spare room.
‘Oh?’ said Son.
‘Colour,’ said Tiffany-Jane. ‘At the moment it’s this dove-grey, which is fine, but some days it like, you know, saps the energy – and I was thinking I needed a change.’
Son nodded. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘A red?’ said Tiff. ‘A purple?’
Son shook his head. He was showing, Pat thought, the most animation he’d shown all afternoon. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The stimulation has to come fromwithinnot from without. You need something that soothes and nourishes.’
‘I like the sound of that,’ said Tiff. ‘What would you suggest?’
‘Personally,’ said Son, ‘I’d go for a soft, pale yellow – something like that.’
‘That,’ said Pat as they crossed the car park, ‘was brilliant!’
‘It just came to me,’ said Tiffany, looking pleased and modest.
‘Clever old you!’ Impulsively Pat put her arm round the younger woman. Tiff instantly stiffened. It wasn’t as though she was repulsing the gesture, rather as if she couldn’t allow herself to relax into it. Awkwardly Pat let her arm drop as Tiff fumbled for the car keys.
‘So, what do you think about Son?’ asked Tiff, turning on the air-conditioning. ‘Do you think he was involved in what happened?’
Pat frowned, wafting her side door in order to cool the interior. ‘It’s hard to imagine him doing anything out of anger,’ she said. ‘You saw how he was.’
Tiff nodded, and the two gingerly slid onto the roasting car seats. ‘He reminded me of Mavic,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘A friend from Manchester. Quite quiet, but when he was up on stage – honestly, Pat, you should have seen him.’
‘A singer?’ said Pat, as Tiff’s mobile began shrilling out Lady Gaga.
‘Sort of,’ said Tiff, frowning at the display. ‘A drag artist. Hey, Justy – I’m just out with your mum.’ She spoke brightly into the phone. There was a pause. ‘Stockton,’ she said, a frown clouding her face. From the tone of her voice, it was clear something was the matter. ‘Justy, I’mfine, your mum’s fine. We’ve just been to this talk; we’ve been inside the whole time. I’ve been outsidethree minutes tops when I got out of the car.’ Her voice sounded reassuring – almost soothing. Why? Tiffany smiled apologetically at Pat and got out of the car, moving a way off to under the shade of a tree. From her body language it was clear this wasn’t an easy conversation. What was the matter? Had they maybe arranged to go somewhere? Or for Tiff to do something? Or – and the force hit her with a chill despite the heat of the day – or was he quizzing her about who she was with? Should she maybe intervene?
No, Pat, neb out.It was as if Rod was sitting next to her. And it was true – whatever was going on there was very little she could do unless asked. Only – and she realised the thought gave her a pang – only she found the thought of her eldest son splitting up from this beautiful, clever girl quite distressing.
With an effort she turned her mind away from the earnestly gesticulating figure back to the question of Son Masters. There was something Tiffany had just said – something about Manchester … her friend Mavic –he’s a drag artist.
Pat sat up. What if the woman confronting Neville Hilton that night hadn’t been a woman, but aman… ?
Chapter Nineteen
Wednesday 23rd July
Voice of the Vale, Thirsk FM Radio: Today’s beat-the-heat tip!
Sizzle sizzle, Thirskians! For a heat-busting snack try chomping on a cucumber! This has a high water content and can be key in keeping you properly hydrated!
With a flourish worthy of a stage magician Harvey pulled a packet of chocolate digestives from out of his plastic crate. ‘Triggers!’ he cried with a broad grin. ‘That’s what it’s all about! Things that get the old brain thinking naughty thoughts!’
‘Ey up,’ said Zippy Doodah in a deadpan voice. There was an explosive snigger from the coven.
