Diane hesitated. ‘I don’t know. I hope not.’
A chalky Bryony fell silent. Even after two cups of tea, she was shaky.
Diane rang the bank and rescheduled her appointment with Ms Rhianne Andrews for the end of the week. She tried not to sigh, remembering that she’d meant to use the excuse of reporting on how the business plan had been received to ring James that night. To hear his voice. To check that he was coping.
‘Shall I take you home?’ she asked gently.
Bryony blinked. ‘I don’t know. Dad will be there –’
‘But Dad will be downstairs until I help him to bed, later. I think you could do with a few hours chill time, snug in your own room. Buy a magazine on the way back to the car and you can put your feet up.’
Compared to the cheery, chatty journey into the city earlier, the journey home was a wet weekend. The parkways were busy and Diane knew from experience that it was easy to want to leave one and inexplicably find herself still on it. She concentrated on the traffic and left Bryony to stare silently at the scenery.
Until they reached the quiet of the Fen lanes, the land stretching flat on either side of the road. Then Bryony burst out, ‘Are you staying with Dad for me?’
In her surprise, Diane almost let the car run into a ditch. For safety’s sake she pulled over, half on a humped grass verge. ‘That came a bit out of the blue!’
‘Sorry.’ Bryony paused to feel around for her inhaler and use it on a big in-breath. She paused before letting the breath out again and gave a little cough. ‘It’s dawning on me exactly how crappy Dad’s been to you. And I bet I don’t know the half of it. Because people’s relationships are private and mostly others don’t see the real picture? Sometimes people inside the relationship don’t. Like I thought my relationship with Inacio was so cool and that he always came to my area because he didn’t want me crossing the city at night. But it wasn’t cool, it was crappy, because he was actually going home to his wife.’
She coughed again and paused over another puff of her inhaler. ‘And I don’t want anything to do with Inacio, because he lied and lied and lied. And I just thought … well, Dad’s lied and lied to you and you’re still with him. So I wondered if there was a reason. And then I wondered if the reason was me.But I suppose I shouldn’t have asked because it’s your relationship, yours and Dad’s.’ Bryony rubbed her eyes, like a child. ‘I still love Dad.’
‘I know.’
Diane stroked Bryony’s cheek, unsure of what she could say to make this less hard on her daughter. Because she was staying with Gareth for Bryony’s sake – but she didn’t think it was necessarily the best thing for Bryony to hear.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Troubled that she’d somehow let her daughter end up in the middle of things despite all intentions to the contrary, Diane didn’t immediately notice anything missing when they trailed silently into the house.
It was Bryony, dragging her bag as if even that little weight was too much, who said, ‘Where’s Dad?’
His chair in the sitting room was empty, his crutches gone. They looked in the workroom and checked the downstairs loo. Both empty. Slowly, they moved towards the stairs. Diane took the lead. For a reason she didn’t examine too closely, she trod as quietly as she could.
The doors to the bathroom and the other rooms were wide open, showing empty rooms. But the door to Bryony’s room stood only a little ajar, and through the gap Diane could see Gareth sitting on Bryony’s bed, his back to the door, hunched over something in his lap. She hesitated.
With a mew of distress Bryony thrust past her, hurling the door back on its hinges. ‘Dad, how could you go through my things?’
Gareth’s head flew up, his face pulled wide with horror. One of his crutches lay across the duvet, the other was propped against the wall. The large drawer beneath Bryony’s bed was open next to his feet. A black leather box was open inside the drawer.
And Gareth’s lap glistened with the jewellery that had belonged to Diane’s mother and grandmother.
Beside him sat a blue canvas money belt, the one he took on holiday to keep their spending money safe. Several pieces of jewellery could be seen through its gaping mouth.
Bryony swayed on her feet. Diane guided her hurriedly into the pink basketwork chair. ‘Sit down, sweetie.’ All they needed was Bryony fainting.
Gareth’s hunted gaze flicked from daughter to wife. He cleared his throat and looked down at the brooches and chains laid out neatly across his legs like bizarre decorations. ‘I –’ He cleared his throat again.
In slow motion, Bryony stooped awkwardly for the box and held it out. Like a naughty child, Gareth put everything back. First the pieces from his lap: gold, silver, diamonds, emeralds, jet, amber; then from the pocket of the belt. Bryony checked inside. ‘Is that everything? Or do I have to frisk you?’ Her voice trembled.
Gareth nodded. ‘Everything.’ He picked up his crutches and threaded them onto his arms. Then he sat, silent, staring at the carpet, caught red-handed and stuck for an explanation.
Gradually, colour began to return to Bryony’s face. Her eyes glittered and Diane recognised anger. She was glad. Anger would serve Bryony better than shock and horror.
‘Mum, do you think Uncle Freddy will put these things back in his safe for me?’
‘I’m sure he will.’
‘Good. I’ll go over there now.’
