Percy spluttered over his pint. ‘What?’
‘Ernest and Hugo cornered me.’ The memory made her want to grind her teeth. ‘They knew I’d got it, and for different reasons they both wanted it included. But I’ve been quite creative with the description. There should be competition for that cup.’ She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a fierce hiss. ‘If we can get an expert to confirm the signature is forged a second before the gavel comes down, I’ll stop that auction even if I have to pull the plug on the auctioneer’s microphone.’
Percy’s eyes widened. ‘That’s ... fighting talk.’
The bitter tasted sharp on her tongue, earthy and real. ‘I won’t let that man be the second fraudster that steals from the Pembertons.’
‘And Hamish? Is he in agreement with this plan?’
‘His phone’s off. He doesn’t know.’ He didn’t know any of today’s momentous developments yet. Her heart clenched. Poor Hamish, dreaming of a candlelit dinner with his wife; he was like one of his Tudor nobles riding to court to pay homage to Henry VIII without knowing that Cromwell had just persuaded the king to sign his death warrant. The jazz music seemed to grow discordant, the saxophone wailing like something in pain. ‘But even if he disagrees with the decision, it won’t change anything. He’s outnumbered by Ernest and Hugo.’
Percy studied her for a long moment. ‘Right. Well.’ He pulled out his phone, scrolling through contacts. ‘I know someone at Cambridge. Forensic document analysis. I’ll call in a very large favour.’
‘How quickly?’
‘If I can reach her tonight, have the documents collected from the current expert and couriered over ... a verbal confirmation tomorrow morning, perhaps.I’mconvinced it’s a forgery, but I’m not an expert.’
Tina grinned then lifted her glass high, nearly toppling a plate of garlicky prawns held aloft by Rose. ‘Then let’s hope this expert works fast.’
He raised his pint. ‘And let’s hope you’re as fierce as you seem tonight.’
She didn’t feel fierce. She felt terrified. But she also felt exhilarated, and more alive than she had in years.
Back in the cottage, Christina stirred softening onions with one hand, while sipping wine with the other. The radio mumbled quietly in the background – a farming programme she wasn’t really listening to – and outside the early evening sun shone like blue gauze across the fields.
She stared at her reflection in the kettle: hair pinned up, lipstick fresh. Her hands, usually stained with polish and solder,were clean. She looked like a woman about to do something brave.
Shewasabout to be brave.
She glanced at the clock: six o’clock. He would be home soon. She’d texted – twice – but no reply. No calls, no voicemails. For once, it was a relief. If Hamish hadn’t answered Tina’s calls, it meant no one else had reached him either. Her secret – still safe – clung to her like a second skin.
Tonight, she’d tell him everything. While the casserole was still warm and the wine still had legs, she’d pull the truth from her throat and set it on the table beside the salt.
Your wife is the daughter of a disgraced thief. Your family’s money vanished because of mine. I paid for my university fees with Pemberton money, forcing your mother to sell land to pay for yours. I’ve been trying to repay that wrong by faking silver. I never told you any of this. And I’m sorry. Please forgive me because I love you with every fibre in my body.
For the second time that day, she was grateful Elspeth wasn’t at home. One less person to protect. One less pair of eyes and ears to witness the fallout.
She heard tyres crunching on gravel and took a steadying breath. A car door shut. Tina swallowed, then tore a towel off the Aga rail and dried her clammy hands. The door crashed open.
‘Smells like home,’ Hamish called, stamping his shoes and hanging up his coat. His hair was windswept, his clothes dishevelled, and his face bore that smile that still melted her at the knees. Her husband, the man she adored. Her heart started hammering.He’s smiling. He loves me. I’ve won him back but I’m about to lose him. This time forever.
‘You wouldn’t believe the mess of a time I’ve had. They’ve shut the link road again.’
He kissed her cheek, tossed his satchel onto the table, then stole a piece of carrot from the chopping board. ‘God, it’s goodto be back. I’ve missed this. You. Everything. That lecture went well, by the way. I even snuck in my bit about Elizabeth surviving on the art of ambiguity. You’d have been proud.’
She turned, drying her hands again. ‘Hamish, there’s something I have to say ...’
Her phone rang. Tina stared at it, Penelope’s name flashing on the screen. Once her past came out, people likeLadyPenelope would drop her as neatly as Henry VIII shed wives. Tina didn’t want to answer. But Elspeth was at Penelope’s; her daughter might be ill.
Penelope’s voice was breathy as she picked up. ‘Christina, thank God – I tried Hamish first but got no answer. It’s Elspeth. She and Benjamin were rehearsing. I left them alone in the library – and now they’re gone. No note. Nothing.’
Tina’s blood turned to ice. ‘Gone?’
‘I’ve called for them all through the house. William’s on his way to help search. I’ve phoned all Benjamin’s friends, but no one’s heard from him. I didn’t want to panic you but—’
‘You did the right thing,’ Tina said, her voice clipped, her secrets once more on hold. What was one more night after twenty years of duplicity? This was far more important. ‘I’m on my way.’
She hung up.
