‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘There was no need for you to involve yourself, but thank you for stepping in.’ Studying his face closely, she suddenly had the strangest feeling that she recognised him, but couldn’t think from where. He was rather handsome, for a man of his age, in his late forties, possibly early fifties. He had thick dark hair shot through with grey, and his equally dark intelligent eyes were fixed on hers.
‘May I buy you a drink?’ he asked, ‘something to take away the unpleasantness of—’ He broke off and stared hard at her with a peculiar look on his face. ‘I’m experiencing the oddest sensation,’ he said. ‘Do I know you?’
Growing used to being recognised, she said nonchalantly, ‘You might have seen me in a film, or on the stage in a play.’
‘You’re an actress?’
She nodded. ‘I’m about to appear in a play at the Athena Theatre, alongside Hugo Gerrard.’ She guessed a man of his age would probably remember Hugo from his heyday years.
He smiled, but looked puzzled. ‘I really do feel that we’ve met before.’
‘Funnily enough, you seem familiar to me too. Perhaps we met at a party?’
‘I seldom go to parties these days; they bore me rigid. Although I did go to one recently, up in Suffolk. It was for an old friend of mine and her husband who were—’
‘Would that be Evelyn and Kit Devereux?’ she cut in.
‘Yes,’ he said, surprise showing on his handsome face. ‘Were you there? At Meadow Lodge?’
‘I certainly was.’
His smile widened. ‘Now isn’t that a coincidence?’
‘It is,’ she said. ‘But we weren’t actually introduced. But I do remember you now.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘Mostly because of the look of astonishment on Evelyn’s face when she clapped eyes on you.’
‘I tend to have that effect on women,’ he said with a small laugh of his own. Then making himself comfortable on the stool next to Isabella, he said, ‘Now about that drink, what would you like? Or better still, how would you like to have dinner with me?’
Chapter Forty
Fairview, Melstead St Mary
November 1962
Hope
‘Look here, Hope, I can’t help being called out, it is my job after all to care for my patients.’
‘I’m just saying that it’s not always necessary for you to drop everything and go tearing off. You’ve said yourself how people often take advantage of your good nature. Or how they cry wolf at the drop of a hat.’
‘I’d hardly call poor old Fred Tucket falling down the stairs and breaking his elbow crying wolf.’
‘You know what I mean!’ snapped Hope, straining to move a heavytea-chest.
They had finally moved in to Fairview four days ago but they were a long way from unpacking everything. Just in this room where they were standing – the library – there had to be at least twenty boxes full of books waiting to be unpacked. She had been here for the last two hours while Edmund was out. So much for his promise to help her. As he had promised yesterday, and the day before that. Three promises, all of which he’d failed to keep. What other more important promises had he broken?
He’d returned a few minutes ago full of talk about having received a telephone call at the surgery from some old colleague or other with whom he’d studied medicine. His jovial mood could not have vexed her more. It was during his absence that a second letter had arrived in the afternoon post. Heather, their housemaid, had brought it to Hope.
i warned you before about neglecting
your husband. you’ll pay the price
one of these days.
The nasty tone of the letter – again compiled by words cut from a newspaper – made her suspect even more that it was Arthur who was behind it. But she knew that was wishful thinking, because if it was her brother, she could dismiss the letters as nothing more than spite on his part. But if it wasn’t Arthur, and she had to consider that possibility very seriously, then she had to accept that there was some truth in what the letters said about Edmund.
Whoever had sent the second letter knew that Hope and Edmund had moved to Fairview, just as he or she had known they had been staying at Island House before. The handwriting on the envelope was not her brother’s, that was just about all she could be sure of. She would recognise his scrawl anywhere. Holding the letter and reading it a second time, then a third and a fourth, Hope had shaken with angry shock.
To her shame she had wept, choking tears of misery rolling unbidden down her cheeks. But terrified Heather might hear her sobbing, she had pulled herself together and methodically folded the letter, put it back inside the envelope and slipped it into her skirt pocket. By the time Edmund returned she had taken out the worst of her wretchedness in the library unpacking boxes at a furious rate. But she didn’t trust herself to look at him. She couldn’t bear to see the duplicity in his face. A face she had always found so reassuring. Now she wanted to slap it hard.How dare you betray me! How could you do it?
