He frowns. ‘Clues? I don’t understand. What kind of clues?’
I fidget. ‘Hidden messages.’
‘I’m sure she did.’ He clears his throat. ‘Imogen, darling, are you trying to find this missing sculpture?’ His gaze is challenging. ‘Is that what this is about?’
My cheeks go hot. ‘I don’t know anything about a missing sculpture, do you?’
He sits back in his chair. ‘Like I said, I only hear rumours. But if you do find anything, it would be in your best interests to let me know.’ His voice is steely and a chill ripples over my skin.
31
Dorothea
Sixteen Years and Four Months Before
Dorothea knew even before Ruth opened her mouth what she was going to say. She hovered at the edge of Dorothea’s studio, picking at her nails, a guilty expression on her pretty face as Dorothea stood at her easel, paintbrush in hand.
‘You’re going back to him, aren’t you?’
Ruth sagged in defeat and slunk into one of the armchairs. Her eyes went to the glass doors and Dorothea followed her gaze. Imogen was sitting on a blanket on the lawn with Harry, Casper on her lap. It was an unusually warm day for mid-September and all Dorothea could hear was the faint chatter of Imogen and Harry’s conversation punctuated with a burst of laughter and the tweeting of birds in the trees. Imogen would be devastated. She had bloomed since coming here. Dorothea felt a sudden, uncharacteristic burst of aggression towards Ruth then. She wanted to shoutat her, to tell her she shouldn’t go back to him. That she was being selfish. That Alec would never change. He wouldnever, everchange. But that wasn’t Dorothea’s way. How she wished afterwards that she’d been able to persuade Ruth to stay, because then she’d still be alive. But instead she’d just nodded sadly.
‘I know you must think I’m mad!’ Ruth protested, tears in her eyes. ‘And I’ve loved staying here with you, Dot. You’ve become such a good friend to me. You’ve done more for me than anyone has in my entire life and I love you for it. But I can’t stay here forever. It’s not fair on you. I’m … I’m your cleaner, for crying out loud!’
‘No. No, you’re not! You’re my friend, Ruth,’ replied Dorothea hotly.And I love you, she wanted to say.I love you like the baby sister I never had and Imogen like the granddaughter I never had.She bit back tears as she placed her paintbrush down and wiped her hands with a rag.
Since Ruth had moved in she’d still insisted on cleaning the house, telling Dorothea it was the least she could do for letting them stay, even though Dorothea was adamant there was no need. She perched on a stool next to Ruth. How could she tell her she didn’t want her to go? ‘Why are you going back to him after everything he’s done?’ she asked instead.
Ruth looked down at her hands resting in her lap. ‘He’s like two different people, Dot. When he’s not drinking he’s lovely. Affectionate, warm, loving. It’s the drink – and he’s promised me he’s stopped drinking. He’s not touched a drop in weeks.’
Dorothea hadn’t realized Ruth was even in contact with Alec. How long had they been meeting for? She felt a sudden slam of betrayal. For weeks after Ruth first arrived, they’d sat together talking about Alec and how diabolical he’d been. And now, after everything, she had decided to go back to him?
‘Oh, Dot. I can’t bear to see you so disappointed in me. I’m weak, aren’t I? Do you think I’m weak?’
Dorothea bit her lip to stop herself revealing her true feelings. ‘No, Ruth, of course I don’t think you’re weak. You love the man. But maybe you should stay here for a bit longer? See how things go? Or, you could leave Imogen here …’
Ruth shook her head. ‘No, I can’t do that. The summer holidays are over now. She’s back at school and it’s a long way for you to drive every day. That wouldn’t be fair on you.’
Dorothea opened her mouth to say it was no bother but Ruth continued. ‘I can’t hide out here forever. It’s been so kind of you to put me up, Dot, it really has. It’s been nearly four months.’
Dorothea remembered so clearly that day at the beginning of June. Ruth had discharged herself from hospital, taken a taxi to her home while Alec was at work, and grabbed some belongings before turning up at the villa with Imogen. Ruth had been in such a state, scared to press charges against Alec, but also knowing if she stayed he’d kill her. Dorothea had calmed her down and then the two of them had gone to pick up Imogen from school and they had stayed ever since.
‘I have to face my own problems,’ said Ruth now. ‘I need to try and see if this marriage can be fixed. And don’t worry … if he drinks, if he lays one hand on me ever again, I’m out of there.’
Dorothea swallowed down her anxiety. It wasn’t that easy. She knew that from bitter experience. It was on the tip of her tongue to confess all to Ruth. Her darkest secret. But it wasn’t fair to burden Ruth with all that. It was a secret she had vowed to take to the grave.
‘You promise?’
‘Yes, Dot. I promise.’ She stood up and walked over to where Dorothea was sitting and took her hands, holding them tightly. ‘You’ve taught me how to be strong, Dot. I feel like I can achieve anything now, thanks to you. It will be fine. If Alec stays off the drink, then I know he’ll never hurt me again.’
32
Imogen
I’m in a café around the corner from Gabe’s office near Liverpool Street. I wanted to grab some lunch before catching the train back to Bath and to gather my thoughts. I can’t get the measure of Gabe. And what he knows about the sculpture.
I order myself a panini and a flat white and find a table by a huge glass window. I’m about to take a bite out of my sandwich when my phone screen flashes up with a message. It’s from Josh.
What were you doing at the Mitchell Artists’ Agency?
