‘I told you–’
Frank’s smile vanished. ‘Don’t take me for a mug, Christina.I was a cop longer than you’ve been a liar. You think I can’t clock a staller?’
She swallowed. The fire cracked. Outside, a fox screeched in the dark.
‘Give me the cup,’ he said, calm again, although the edge remained. ‘Iamasking nicely.’
She stared at him. ‘Why do you even care?’
He snorted. ‘It’s no’ just silver; that’s clout. Bit of respect. And I’ve earned every bit of it. You think this is all down to Ernie?’
He took a step closer, and her hand clenched, gripping the solid steel of the poker tighter. Adrenaline surged through her, sharp and electric, setting her muscles taut, every nerve alert. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
‘Ever wonder how Ernie found out your secret? That was me. I was a young copper on your case. Makes me sick, watching folk like you slip through the cracks. One rule for the rich with their silk-tie lawyers, and another for the rest of us.’ Her eyes widened in disbelief. As if anyone had escaped justice for that crime; she’d been serving time for thirty years. She could see it suddenly, as clear as yesterday: coming home from school aged nine – the morning her father had kissed her goodbye before leaving for his trip to New York – her mother’s face white as chalk. In her heart of hearts, she knew her father wasn’t in America and wasn’t coming home any time soon. The shame that had followed her ever since, the certainty that she was marked, damaged, less than everyone else.
Frank continued, his voice low.‘Retirement’s a laugh. Pensionbarely covers the heating. Most of the boys I served with are flogging their dignity in supermarkets or playing fixer for scumbags. Me? I saw it coming. So, I backed Ernie. Made my own way out. Properly. Maybe even Spain, if I’m lucky.’
He wanted his share, and she guessed that Ernest’s scheme didn’t involve cutting Frank in on the deal. Frank wouldn’t hesitate to use her shame to get what he wanted. For a moment she asked herself why, if Ernest knew about the cup for years, he hadn’t taken it earlier? She answered her own question – because in a heartbeat, Flora would notice her favourite flower vase missing, and Ernest wouldn’t want his wife reporting a theft. That would involve the police, insurance companies, and art experts – he couldn’t risk them poking around the family ‘treasures’. And anyway, as a stolen artefact, the cup’s marketability and value would be severely dented.
She turned and put the poker down, trying to figure out how to appease Frank without relinquishing the cup. ‘If I give you the cup,’ she said carefully, ‘Ernest will ...’
‘Spill the beans about ‘the Great Matter’.’
‘Yes.’
Frank smiled again. ‘And if you don’t give it to me,Itell.’
The fire let out a long hiss.
Christina heard the voice in her head:You’re not clever enough to get out of this.But this time, the voice didn’t make her shrink. This time, it felt like she grew an inch. Because maybe – just maybe – therewasa way to satisfy them both.
‘OK. I’ll help you,’ she said.
Frank raised an eyebrow. ‘Now you’re talking sense.’
‘Ernest really does have the cup. I gave it back after I cleaned it.’
Frank observed her. His eyes narrowed. ‘If you’re lying—’
‘I’m not,’ she said quickly. ‘He has it. Locked away, I think. He’s waiting for the right moment to add it to the auction.’ It was a risk, but she felt sure Ernest would rather the cup stayed withChristina than ended up in Frank’s control.
In the silence that followed the fire crackled. Frank studied her face.
At last, he gave a curt nod. ‘Fine.’
He stepped backward to the door, then paused with his hand on the frame.
‘Word of advice,’ he said. ‘Grow a spine before this house of cards comes down. Might be the only thing that saves you.’
Then he was gone, leaving the door ajar, the air unsettled.
Christina stood by the fire, her heart drumming fast but steady. Shehadgrown a spine.
And for the first time since she could remember, she wasn’t thinking about avoiding conflict.
She was thinking about strategy.
Two hours later, and the night was restless – clouds scudding across a fractured moon. The wind had risen with the tide, threading through the Devon fields in long, steady gusts that sent uneasy shivers through the hedgerows.
