But Alison fears it will never be okay. If she believes their father is telling the truth and Imogen doesn’t, then where does that leave them?
26
Imogen
When I wake up on Saturday morning Josh isn’t beside me. It’s 8 a.m. Early for us on a weekend. I assume he’s downstairs making breakfast, so I slip on my dressing gown and head to the kitchen, but it’s empty. And the dogs are gone too. Anxiety gnaws at me. Josh would never leave without telling me where he was going and certainly not with the dogs. I picture him off in a mood somewhere. Has he discovered that I’m secretly researching Dorothea’s death or has he found out about the sculpture?
I search the house with a knot in my stomach, even though it’s obvious he’s not here. And then I hear barking. I’m in Dorothea’s study which overlooks the front of the house and I can see Josh in the lane with the dogs. He’s bending down and stroking them tenderly while talking to them and the sight of it tugs at my heart. I knew he’d fall in love with the dogs once he’d given them a chance. And then I see a figure joining him in the lane and my heart sinks. No, no, no. It’s Harry. Shit. I hope Josh won’t be rude to him. I hover at the window, willing Josh to come back into the house. I can’t hear what they are saying butit appears as though Harry is introducing himself and they are shaking hands. Has Harry come over to give me the proof? I texted him yesterday to remind him to get me a copy and he said the few they’d had in the office had been sent off to reviewers so he’ll give me his when he’s finished with it. It felt like he was making up excuses, which has, naturally, made me even more eager to read it. I hope he doesn’t hand a copy to Josh as then I’ll have to admit that I am researching Dorothea.
I move away from the window and grab my mobile. I call Josh and pretend I don’t know where he is.
‘Josh?’ I say when he answers. ‘Where are you? I was worried.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, babe, I woke up early and thought I’d take the dogs out – yeah, cheers, mate, good to meet you too – sorry, was just talking to Harry, but he’s gone now.’ He’s breathing heavily and I can hear the wind buffeting in the background, the punch of the keypad as he taps in the code for the side gate, the crunch of gravel underfoot. He doesn’t sound annoyed, which I’m surprised about after how he reacted the other night. ‘We were out of milk and eggs. I thought I’d try and make those Scotch pancakes on the Aga. I found one of Dorothea’s recipes in the drawer.’ Then his voice changes again, becoming more formal. ‘Oh, hello,’ he says to someone else. ‘Yes, she is. I’m her boyfriend, Josh.’
I rush back to the window. Josh is standing with a smartly dressed woman, her shiny silvery-blonde hair in an old-fashioned up-do. She’s wearing a tweed suitand has on a pair of leather gloves. She looks rich and important and I recognize her straight away from the photographs. ‘Yes, please come in …’ I can hear him say. He’s putting on his telephone voice to speak to her, which makes me smile. I wonder why she’s come over rather than just calling me back?
I quickly dress in yesterday’s jeans and jumper and run my fingers through my tangly wavy hair. I quickly assess myself in the mirror. I’m not exactly groomed and I could use some eye make-up to make myself look more awake. No time. I take a deep breath, trying to curb my swooping stomach, and then I head downstairs.
I can hear Josh and Annette in the kitchen. When I walk in she stands up and her face freezes in shock. ‘Goodness,’ she says, touching the pearls at her throat. ‘You look the spitting image of your mother.’ She holds out a gloved hand. ‘Lovely to see you again. I don’t know if you remember me coming to the house when you and Ruth were staying with Dorothea?’
‘Yes, I do. Lovely to see you again too.’
I notice something like disapproval behind her eyes and again, I feel like an intruder in Dorothea’s beautiful home. I hope she doesn’t mention to Josh the phone message I’d left for her.
I turn to Josh with a frown. He’s pouring a jug of batter straight onto the Aga’s stove top. ‘Shouldn’t you use a frying pan?’
‘Apparently I don’t have to. Annette has kindly shown me how.’
She beams at him. ‘Dorothea loved her Aga. The times we sat here in this kitchen …’ Her bright eyes gleam and I realize I had assumed disapproval when it was something else entirely. Regret, perhaps, or a sense of discombobulation at seeing me living in her friend’s house. She clears her throat and sits down again. ‘I’m sorry for the early morning visit. I was going to call you back …’
I dart a look at Josh but his body language doesn’t change and I hope he hasn’t heard.
‘… but I was in the area and I thought it would be nice to have a chat face to face and, I suppose, to come here again.’ She sighs wistfully, looking around. ‘It’s so full of Dot. It’s almost like she’s still here.’
I pull out the chair next to Annette. ‘Yes. I’m interested to know more about her. As you know, she’s left me the house, which came as a surprise …’
‘Yes. It’s a surprise to me as well, but she was extremely fond of you and your mother. Ruth was so effervescent, even when she was going through such a hard time.’ She peels off her gloves. ‘I remember when Dorothea first talked to me about her. They’d become so close. Despite everything, Ruth was still in love with your father. That was what was so frustrating, I suppose. Dorothea offered her a sanctuary – you too, of course – but then Ruth threw it in Dorothea’s face when she went back to Alec.’
‘Oh …’ My heart twists. ‘Is that how Dorothea saw it?’
She waves a hand. ‘Oh, I doubt it. They remained friends even after that. I just think Dot … well, all of us … felt we’d failed her.’
‘I wish she hadn’t gone back to him,’ I say sadly. ‘Then she’d probably still be alive.’
Annette reaches over and pats my hand. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Josh flipping over the Scotch pancakes and I wonder how much he can hear.
‘I’m so sad that I never got the chance to see Dorothea again,’ I say truthfully.
‘She tried, but … your sister …’
‘Ah yes. I’ve only recently found out about that. Do you know why anyone would want to hurt Dorothea?’ I ask gently. ‘Did she have any enemies?’
Annette sits upright and her composure crumbles a little. ‘No. She was a wonderful person.’ She pulls a worried face. ‘Although … there were a few things – just little things – that made her a bit paranoid in the year or so before she died,’ she says carefully.
‘What kind of things?’ My mind casts back to the sculpture.
‘Well, she found a postcard in the woods advertising an unauthorized biography by this man called Sidney Crane.’ She puts a hand to her pearls again. ‘There was a message on the back. I can’t remember exactly what it said now … something about how they couldn’t wait for Dorothea’s past secrets to be revealed. And she found this old lighter.’
