The Art of Deception (Choc Lit)

by Liz Harris

  Jenny turned to Max. ‘It looks as if the dogs got him. He’s lucky he wasn’t seriously hurt. So now that they’ve caught the three of them, it really is over, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in all my life.’ Her voice broke.

  ‘My darling Jenny. Yes, it is.’ He put his arms around her and pulled her to him.

  Encircled by his strong arms, she felt the warmth of his body spread through hers. The fears of the evening faded away, and all memories of the past and why she was there fled from her mind. Thinking only of him, she slid her hands round his back and nestled more closely to him. His arms tightened round her, and all sense of time and place dissolved into nothingness.

  ‘I could stay like this forever,’ she whispered, lost in the moment.

  ‘Oh, Jenny,’ she heard him murmur into her hair, and she sank deeper into his embrace.

  ‘Signore.’ A policeman appeared at Max’s side. ‘Vorrebbe andare in casa con me?’

  ‘Oh, no, he wants you to go into the house with him,’ Jenny translated, her voice muffled by his shirt.

  Max sighed, and let his arms fall to his side. Reluctant to do so, she stepped back from him, and for a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes.

  ‘Signore,’ the policeman prompted.

  ‘I suppose I’d better go in and start answering questions,’ he said. ‘What timing.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ She moved to his side, and together they followed the officer into the house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Breakfast had been a quiet, sombre meal that morning.

  Once they’d finished eating, they’d been interviewed in turn by the police, with Jenny translating each time. While the interviews were under way, other officers had searched the Andersons’ room and bagged up the few things they’d left behind. Jenny gave them the paintings they’d done, and those had been taken away, too.

  By the end of the morning, they’d all felt completely drained, and lunch on the terrace had been as subdued as the breakfast. From the comments she’d heard the police make one to another, she knew that another group was working in Max’s house, and that he’d had to stay over there with them, so she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t turn up to have lunch with them.

  ‘Come on, Clare,’ Stephen said briskly when he finished his panino. He pushed away his empty plate and stood up. ‘I’m not going to let your last full day in Umbria be ruined by the Andersons. We’ll go into Montefalco and have our coffee there, and then we’ll have a wander around. And we can plan our first meeting in England – it can’t come soon enough for me.’ He glanced anxiously at Jenny. ‘It’s OK to disappear now, isn’t it, Jenny? I’ll go stir crazy if I don’t get out for a bit. Clare, too.’

  ‘Of course, it is. You go and make the most of Clare’s last day. She hasn’t had much fun so far today – none of you have.’

  ‘Are you sure that you don’t mind us trotting off and leaving you with the police and everything?’ Clare asked hesitantly.

  ‘Of course, I don’t.’ Jenny smiled warmly at her. ‘You go and have a good time. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you enjoying yourselves.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Clare jumped up, beaming at Stephen, and they went off, hand in hand.

  George rose awkwardly to his feet. ‘I find that I am somewhat tired, dear lady, and I think I shall go to my room and have a short lie down. The events of yesterday and today have rather taken it out of me. That’s not anyone’s fault but Howard and Paula’s, mind you, but a few moments of sleep in order to recoup is in order, I feel.’

  ‘That sounds an excellent idea, Mr Rayburn. We’ll see you later.’

  He nodded to Nick, gave a little bow to Jenny and made his way slowly into the house.

  ‘Right, one of us ought to do some work. I’m going to finish the picture for my mother,’ Nick said. ‘There’s not a lot left to do, and I was tempted to leave the rest till I got home, but I know me – I’d never finish it if I did, and an unfinished picture wouldn’t be much of a present for Mother Dearest.’ He got up. ‘I won’t apologise for leaving you alone because I strongly suspect that you’ll be delighted to have an afternoon without any of us around. I know that I would, if I were you.’

  He gave her a knowing grin, crossed over to his paints and easel, gathered everything together and went off into the garden, whistling.

  She sank back into her chair. Nick was right: it was going to be much easier not to have to worry about them that afternoon. George wasn’t the only one who was worn out – she felt absolutely shattered. The events of the night, and the words ‘My darling Jenny’, followed by her total failure to give any thought to what had happened to her father, had gone round and round in her head, and she’d slept only fitfully. To have a relaxing afternoon by herself was an unexpected treat, and a very welcome one.

  She sat back. She wasn’t going to let herself think about Max; she wasn’t going to let herself think about anything at all – there’d be plenty of time for that later. She rested her head on the back of the chair, and stared up at the lilac wisteria that was clinging to the grey stone walls of the house. Very slowly her eyes began to close.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ she heard Max ask.

  Her eyes flew open and she sat up sharply.

  He came up and took the seat opposite her, his face strained and drawn.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you until much later,’ she said, pushing her hair back from her face. ‘I thought you’d be tied up with the police for longer.’

  ‘They’ve been there all morning, taking fingerprints and the like. The insurance people are there, too. I had to notify them about what happened. But they can manage without me now, so I came to see you. I didn’t expect to find you by yourself, though.’

  ‘Stephen and Clare are in Montefalco; Nick’s in the garden, painting; and George is having a rest. We’re doing our best to get back to normal, but everyone’s still very unsettled.’

  ‘I’m not surprised; it’s bound to take a while to get over a shock like that.’

  ‘Have you had lunch?’ she asked.

  ‘Just a quick bite – it was all I wanted. What’s the state of affairs here with the police?’

  ‘They’ve taken down all of our statements, and they said they’ve almost finished. What about you? When they’ve done everything they have to in your house, will you have to go the station with them? I can come with you if you need me to.’

  ‘I don’t think so. They’ve got my statement, and I’ve given them Howard and Paula’s application forms. What a fiction those were. I can’t think what else the police’ll need from me. I expect we’ll both have to attend the trial, though, and possibly the others, too. If so, I’ll pay everyone’s expenses. I’m going to refund the cost of the week to them all, anyway. It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, seeing that it wasn’t your fault in any way.’

  ‘That may be. It’s a sort of thank you for their support yesterday.’ He leaned slightly across the table towards her. At the look in his eyes, her heart gave a sudden lurch. ‘And you, Jenny,’ he said, his voice warm. ‘You were tremendous. I can’t thank you enough.’

  She gave an awkward laugh and wound a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Like everyone else, I was glad to do what I could to help.’

  He straightened up. ‘Well I want you to know it was much appreciated. As far as tonight’s concerned, I’ve given Maria the rest of the day off. I know she managed lunch, but I think expecting her to cook for us all again today would be too much, and I’ve booked a restaurant in Bevagna. I thought we’d have an early meal and then everyone can get a good night’s sleep. Last night’s meal was ruined, and I want them to have an evening to remember before they go home – to remember for all the right reasons, that is.’ He gave her a tired smile.

  ‘That sounds perfect. I can’t think of a better way of putting last night firmly into the past and enjoying our final night together.
’

  ‘That’s the idea. I hope it does the trick,’ he said, brushing away some wisteria petals that had fallen on to his shoulders.

  He glanced upwards as a shower of the lilac-coloured petals, caught by a sudden light breeze, floated gracefully to the ground and rolled over and over across the paving stones, until they came to rest in a heap at the foot of the table legs and around the edges of the patio. The breeze died down and the terrace was still again.

  He looked back at her. ‘I suspect that it’s going to feel very strange to you this time tomorrow with most of them on their way back to England,’ he said, leaning forward and pushing aside the petals that had landed on the table in front of him.

  She inched her seat back. ‘I suppose it will. But it will to you, too. After all, you’ve joined in all week.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘Has the Anderson thing made you want to return to England now?’

  ‘Not at all. What happened with them happened, but it’s no more than a blip in what’s going to be a lovely summer. It’s a blip that’s taught me a valuable lesson about security, though, and about what’s sensible and what isn’t. We’ll have internet access over here next year, and there’ll be no need for anyone to come across to my place.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s a good idea. It’s better to be on the safe side.’

  He picked up the teaspoon next to him, and immediately put it down again. ‘I think I ought to ask you the question you asked me. It’s only fair. Would you prefer to go home now? If you would, you’ve only got to say. I’d understand – it’s been traumatic for you, too. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll obviously pay you for the whole of the summer.’

  His eyes on the teaspoon, he ran his finger around its rim.

  She stared at his bent head. If she went back to England that weekend, went miles away from him, she might never again see him, never again hear him speak, never again feel the warmth of his gaze upon her face, the thrill when his arms were around her. A lump came to her throat. She couldn’t not see him again; she just couldn’t.

  ‘I’m staying put,’ she said, swallowing hard. ‘I don’t want to leave.’

  His shoulders relaxed. He looked at her across the table. ‘You don’t know how pleased I am to hear you say that,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want you to leave. Not at all.’

  A wave of relief swept over her.

  ‘So that’s agreed,’ she said with a half-laugh, tearing her eyes away from his face. ‘We’re both staying. And now I must go. I’ve got things to do.’

  She went to stand up, but he put his hand on hers to stop her. She sat down again, her stomach jumping nervously.

  ‘I was wondering if you’d say anything about last night, Jenny; not about the theft, but about afterwards, when we were together on the drive. Despite everything that’s been going on today, it’s been on my mind every minute.’

  She pulled her hand away and stood up. ‘There’s nothing to say,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Not now, not ever. I’m sorry; I’ve got to go.’

  He stared up at her, his face puzzled.

  ‘I’ve got to pick out the best of the week’s paintings for this evening’s display,’ she added, forcing a lightness into her voice. ‘We’ll make it a bit earlier than usual. And I need to give everyone their work back. At the moment, everything’s jumbled together.’

  He gestured helplessly with his hands, his palms upturned. ‘You don’t have to do that now. You could follow George’s example and have a rest. You can’t have got much sleep last night. We don’t need a display tonight – everyone would understand. And they could pick out their own paintings from the pile.’

  ‘I want to do it. It’ll help us get back to normal if we start the evening like we always do. It won’t be a huge display. I’m only going to show the best of the week’s work, and we haven’t got the paintings done by two of our number. But I think it’ll be enjoyable, looking at the progress everyone’s made in a week.’

  ‘More enjoyable in some cases than others, I suspect,’ he said wryly.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised at how you and Stephen have improved. You were sceptical, but when you look back at your week’s work, you’ll see the progress you’ve made.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  ‘And when we’ve looked at the paintings, we can have our final Bellini together, and then go out.’

  ‘Fair enough, you’ve won me round.’ He got up. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then, and get back to the house. Much as I hate the bare walls and the sense of violation, there are things I could be doing there. With luck, the police will have gone by now and I’ll be able to get on without interruption. I suggest I come back for seven, in time for the display. The restaurant’s booked for eight-thirty, so Carlo will collect us just after eight.’

  ‘That sounds perfect. I’ll tell the others when I see them next.’

  He took a few steps, stopped and looked back at her. ‘I will have that conversation with you, Jenny,’ he said quietly, ‘but at another time. We have the rest of the summer to ourselves, after all.’ Then he turned, walked across the terrace and disappeared round the corner of the house.

  Her stomach somersaulted. It wasn’t that conversation she wanted. She wanted to talk about Max and her father, not about Max and her. Not that there was a Max and her. There wasn’t. Last night, she’d given in to her feelings after a traumatic evening, but it had been no more than that.

  Taking a deep breath, she went resolutely into the house and over to the cupboard where she kept the class’s work. Kneeling down, she pulled the doors open and took out the paintings and sketches they’d done. Then she pushed the doors shut, sat down on the floor and started to sort them into piles.

  A sudden thought hit her hard. She drew her breath in sharply and stared ahead with unseeing eyes. The painting she’d been holding slipped through her fingers to the floor, unnoticed.

  She’d turned down the chance to return to England without a second’s hesitation. But not for one minute had she reasoned that she must stay close to Max in order to discover the truth about her father. Not for one single second had she cast her mind back to what had happened all those years ago.

  All she’d been able to think about was Max and the thought that she might never see him again. And that thought had torn her apart.

  She felt the blood drain from her face.

  Oh, no, she breathed inwardly. How could she have done such a terrible thing? How could she have let herself fall in love with the man whose actions brought about the death of her father?

  Because that’s what she’d done – she’d fallen in love with Max.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Standing beneath a night sky studded with glittering stars, they waved goodbye to Carlo as he drove off to his home, then they made their way slowly down the drive to their house. Behind them, the sound of the minibus engine gradually faded into the distance, until it was swallowed up by the still of the night.

  Jenny was the first to reach the terrace.

  From the moment she’d let herself face the fact that she’d fallen in love with Max, the rest of the day had passed in a daze, and she’d longed for it to end. She needed time by herself if she was going to get on top of the feelings that she shouldn’t have and bring her focus back to the reason she came to Italy.

  She could hear Nick just behind her.

  ‘Come on, you slowcoaches,’ he called back up the path. He rounded the corner and ran on to the terrace.

  ‘We’re going slowly for a reason.’ Clare’s voice came from somewhere further up the path.

  A moment or two later, she turned on to the terrace with Stephen at her side. ‘We want to make the most of our last evening in Italy together, don’t we, Stephen?’ she said, crossing the terrace to join Nick and Jenny. ‘When the evening ends, it means that the holiday’s ended. We want to delay that moment for as long as possible.’

  Nick’s face took on an expression of horror. ‘For one g
hastly minute, I thought you were going to say, “Don’t we, Stevie darling?”’

  Stephen glared at him, and opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘I thought we’d banned all references, either direct or indirect, to a certain two people,’ Jenny cut in quickly.

  ‘Oops. So we did. Mea culpa, and all that,’ Nick said, and he hung his head in feigned shame.

  She turned to Stephen and Clare and smiled. ‘Anyway, it’s not really goodbye for you two, is it? Your uncle tells me that you’ve been overcome by sudden academic fervour, Stephen, and you’ve decided to abandon your holiday and return to England to focus on your studies. By a happy coincidence, you’ll be able to meet Clare in London at the end of next week. That’s right, isn’t it?’

  Stephen grinned at her.

  Clare smiled happily up at Stephen. ‘We’ve been working out all the details.’

  ‘It’ll be strange meeting up in England for the first time,’ Stephen said, putting his arm round her. ‘It’s going to make everything much more real. How does it go: Clare’s not just for Italy, she’s for life?’

  Giggling, Clare hugged him.

  ‘Where’s Mr Rayburn?’ Jenny suddenly asked. She glanced anxiously towards the path. ‘I’d better go and check up on him. It should have occurred to me earlier that he might need some help. He looked very tired this evening. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  She hurried back across the terrace. As she reached the foot of the path, George came into sight. He was leaning on Max’s arm.

  ‘Here I am, Jennifer, as you see. I fear that it’s taken me a little longer than sometimes, but I’m here now. Max was good enough to aid me. I am most grateful to you, Max.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, George. Come on, let’s get you to a seat.’

  Jenny took George’s other arm, and they helped him into a chair.

  ‘Thank you, thank you, my friends,’ he said, wiping his forehead. He glanced up at Max. ‘Yet another reason to be grateful to you, Max.’ He glanced at the small group. ‘The rest of you may not know …’ Max gestured that he should stop, but George held up his hand. ‘No, dear boy, let me speak.’ He turned back to the others. ‘When the waiter brought us that wonderful wine this evening, it reminded me that I’d completely forgotten the Sagrantino that our friend in Montefalco was going to bring in for me to taste today. As you can imagine, I was beside myself with annoyance that it had slipped my mind.’