Part 2 (2/2)

'I was invited, he said, very carefully, swaying gently. 'Got the invite here somewhere to prove it, and looked vaguely around as if expecting to see it dangling in the air nearby. Someone, somewhere, gave a nervous giggle.

'Hes had a few, muttered Thomas. 'Why do you think hes here?

Because, I thought, he cant stay away. Like a moth to a flame. And she encourages him.

Francesca moved to his side, beautiful in black and white. 'Oh, here you are at last, Russell. Still, better late than never. She took his arm. 'Daniel, dear, I thought it would be nice for Russell to meet a few people socially, now that hes trying to re-establish himself in Rushford, and this would be a good start.

Daniels pause was only infinitesimal. 'What a good idea, Francesca. Why dont you take him around and introduce him? and stepped back to resume his conversation, apparently uninterested in the new arrival, leaving Francesca and Russell somewhat isolated in the centre of the room. A message had been sent.

'Nicely done, observed Thomas. ' She really is a complete nitwit, isnt she? I wonder if she realises the damage she does. I doubt it. If shes got any sense sh.e.l.l introduce him to Mr Splash of Cold Water, Mrs Strong Black Coffee, and Miss Taxi Home. Still, we dont want to miss any of this, do we? Shall we go downstairs? We can do upstairs later.

I agreed and we re-joined the now wildly gossiping throng downstairs. There was absolutely no sign of Aunt Julia or Uncle Richard, both of whom would have been magically absorbed into the woodwork at the first signs of social awkwardness.

We meandered from room to room, from picture to picture, admiring and criticising until we got to the library at the end. The lights were on, but the room was empty. Long and narrow, it ran along the back of the house. Every inch of wall s.p.a.ce was shelved. Heavy crimson curtains hung at the windows. The furniture was all dark wood and soft leather. It was a very masculine room. The only sign of Francesca here was the famous portrait over the fireplace, but, typically, it dominated the room.

The portrait was magnificent. The intricacies of the costume were wonderfully rendered, the folds and creases in the full silk sleeves being particularly eye-catching. The lace collar at the neck was delicately beautiful, drawn in with a swift, sure hand. The face was pure Francesca. She looked directly out of the picture, a small enigmatic smile on her lips, plotting something unpleasant; or more likely, knowing Francesca, wondering what to have for lunch. An unseen light caught her hair, highlighting red-gold curls amongst the dark shadows. It was, as they say, a work of art.

'Well, said Thomas, quietly. 'I forgive him everything. This is remarkable. Whats she holding?

I stood on tip-toe. 'A small gla.s.s phial.

'Do you think shes on her way to poison someone or has she just done it?

'Well never know.

'Why did he stop painting?

I shrugged. 'His Muse left him.

'Do you think she regrets that now?

'I dont know. Maybe she doesnt know either.

'Well, he certainly does. Poor old Russell.

I looked at him in surprise.

'He got a raw deal. I wonder if she realises shes probably ruined his life.

I s.h.i.+vered. Suddenly, this wasnt a mildly amusing soap opera, to be viewed from a safe distance and speculated over. This was three peoples lives. And yes, if Russell Checkland didnt pull himself together, his life was probably ruined. And I suspected Daniel and Francesca werent that happy either. All at once, my quiet life in the attic didnt seem so bad.

'Imagine, said Thomas, softly. ' Just imagine. You have your whole life ahead of you, glittering and full of promise with a woman who is your inspiration, whom you adore, who is everything to you. Then one day you wake up and shes waltzed out of the door to be with someone else who can give her the new toys she wants. How must he have felt? You know he trashed his place, dont you? Ripped up his canvases and threw the whole lot in a skip. And he had such talent, Jenny. There was so much joy in his paintings. And now its all gone. I wonder if he can ever get it back. I wonder if he even wants it back.

He sounded so sad. I turned to him and reached up and gently touched his forehead. I dont often stroke him. Hes not a pet.

'You quite like him, dont you?

' I do, yes. His father was an unsympathetic man. His mother, who might have been a buffer between the two of them, died when he was still young enough to need her. The love of his life left him. Even his talent deserted him. So yes, despite all his efforts to alienate the world, I do like him.

I remembered that long look on the stairs. 'I do too.

We stared at the picture for a while. I finished my drink and looked for somewhere to put the gla.s.s. A hand came out of nowhere and a voice said, 'Shall I take that?

Im really quite hopeless in social situations. I didnt know what to do. Give him the gla.s.s? Recoil in horror? Ignore him? Give him a smile? Struggle through a long h.e.l.lo? And where was Thomas when I needed him? Oh yes, down the other end of the room, helpfully peering at first editions.

I turned and looked at Russell Checkland properly for the first time. His hair was damp. I suspected he had been under the cold tap after all. He hadnt changed that much since I last saw him, but there were new lines at his eyes and mouth. His face was thinner and if Thomas was right, and there had been joy, then there wasnt any now.

The silence had gone on for far too long.

'Its all right, he said defiantly. 'Ive been told I can stay if I behave myself and who better to behave myself with than you? Although actually, as I say that, I realise it wasnt the most flattering remark to make. Feel free to box my ears.

Oh, good. I was a safe option. Just what every woman wants to hear. For a brief moment I wished I was dark and dangerous, and did not allow my eyes to flick to the portrait.

I knew how to get rid of him. I took two deep breaths, focused on the ragged knot of his tie and began the struggle.

It had completely the wrong effect. He didnt wait politely, or try to help, or sigh and edge away. He said, 'Good G.o.d, Jenny, thats got worse since I last saw you. Wait here a minute, and disappeared, leaving me still clutching my gla.s.s and struggling to catch up. I had forgotten his nervous energy and how quickly he could move.

He was back in seconds, clutching a cup and saucer and a gla.s.s of the red punch. 'Here you go. Get this down you.

I reached for the cup and saucer, but he said, 'No, thats for me. This is yours, and thrust the gla.s.s at me. I took a cautious sip. It seemed OK. A little tangy, but otherwise quite innocuous.

He started talking again while I sipped. I had also forgotten he could chat for England. 'So, what have you been up to while Ive been away? The last time I saw you, you were clutching a sheath of exam results and grinning fit to bust. Did you go to college? University? What are you doing now? Are you still in Rushford?

I stared at him hopelessly. He grinned down at me and that stupid fringe fell over his eyebrow and suddenly, I was determined to do this. I would do this. I would.

Nothing happened.

I tried again.

Nothing happened.

He was waiting expectantly and then I saw the penny drop. He reached out and gently touched my forearm with two fingers. 'Im sorry. Im an idiot. And Im drunk. And Im angry. And none of its your fault. Would you like me to go away?

As far as I could see, Thomas had completely disappeared. So no help there. I shook my head and gestured to an old leather sofa set back from the fire.

'Good idea, he said. 'My legs feel as if they belong to someone else at the moment. I wish my tongue did. I didnt mean to frighten you. You look so pretty tonight that I just forgot.

Did I also mention he was a silver-tongued charmer?

He sat down very carefully. I sat alongside feeling a little more confident and warmly glowing.

'Right, lets start again. Its good to see you. Are you well?

I nodded and raised an eyebrow at him.

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