‘Right,’ muttered Eddie.
‘I play my radio all night because I’m alone in the house,’ she went on. ‘And, townie that I am, Adam had to spell out what would happen if I had a power cut.’
Wayne frowned. ‘You don’t seem the nervous type, Gabriel.’
‘Normally I’m not. But I’m used to a very small flat in a busy part of London. I’ve never slept alone here before. It’s a big old house for one person.’
‘When’s Mr Brett coming home?’ asked Eddie.
‘Wednesday. But he’s going away to convalesce for a fortnight next day. So I’ve got a while before I have company again.’
‘Your dad’s going to miss you when you go back,’ said Wayne.
‘I’m not going back,’ Gabriel informed him. ‘At least, not to the firm I’ve been working for up to now.’
‘Are you staying here because of Adam?’ said Eddie slyly.
Gabriel gave him a playful thump. ‘No. I just think Dad could do with a replacement for Alison.’
‘Then he’s lucky if you’re taking it on,’ said Wayne, eyes shining. ‘You’re the best.’
The air cleared, Gabriel got down to work again to begin the painstaking, agonisingly slow job of removing the varnish from the canvas. Working through a small window in a piece of card large enough to protect the rest of the painting, she paused constantly to check her cotton buds for any warning traces of colour which meant she was removing paint rather than varnish. After a while Gabriel’s world narrowed down to the small aperture in the protective card as she established a rhythm she was loath to interrupt even for the coffee or tea she was handed from time to time. Bit by miniscule bit Gabriel coaxed varnish from canvas, until by late afternoon her toll of discarded cotton buds was high, her eyes were blurred, and she was forced to call a halt.
‘You look shattered,’ said Wayne, as she straightened, yawning her head off.
‘I am.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Good grief, is it that late? Time you two were knocking off.’
‘We’ll see you sorted out here first,’ said Eddie.
Half an hour later the painting was in the vault, the barn was tidied and locked up for the night, the Harley-Davidson had gone roaring down the lane, and Gabriel was sitting wearily at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, wondering why Adam hadn’t turned up to check on his beautiful Henrietta. And why she felt so flat and out of sorts because he hadn’t. This wouldn’t do, she thought irritably, and went off to transform herself into someone with more appeal than the bleary-eyed creature in the bathroom mirror.
Harry Brett was in good form later, and deeply interested, as always, in her progress on the restoration, and when she got home again Gabriel was able to report to her mother, during the nightly phone call, that all was set fair for her father to leave hospital in a couple of days.
‘I know,” said Laura. ‘I spoke to the consultant today. Just to check,’ she added. ‘After all, if I’m to look after Harry for a fortnight I need to know what’s what in case—well, in case of emergency.’
Gabriel had eaten a cold supper, watched some television, and was about to retire to bed while there was still some light in the sky when the phone rang on the stroke of ten o’clock.
‘Gabriel, are you in bed yet?’ said Adam.
‘Just about to toddle up the wooden hill,’ she retorted, pulse racing at the sound of his voice.
‘I had to take off for Birmingham today. I’ve only just got back. Is everything all right?’
Now she’d heard from him, yes. ‘Dad’s looking good. Everything’s set fair for his discharge on Wednesday.’
‘Which is great. I’m glad. But this time I meant with you, Gabriel.’
‘I’m fine. Tired and cross-eyed after a day de-varnishing Henrietta, but otherwise nothing to report. No damage so far.’
‘Good.’ He paused. ‘I enjoyed breakfast today.’
‘My scrambled eggs are famous.’
‘I was referring to the company.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’
‘Did Wayne stop blushing eventually?’
Gabriel laughed. ‘I had to do some straight talking in the end, because I couldn’t work in the prevailing atmosphere of disapproval. I explained about the batteries.’
‘Did they believe you?’
‘Probably not. But at least Wayne thawed a bit afterwards, so I got on with the job and forgot about them, except when one of them pushed a cup under my nose and told me to drink. They’re nice lads, really.’
‘And only a few years younger than you, Gabriel.’ Adam chuckled. ‘Personally, I think Wayne was jealous.’
‘Rubbish. He’s got a very pretty girlfriend.’
‘Which doesn’t prevent a crush on a sexy lady like you, Miss Brett.’
‘He only sees me in overalls and mask—hardly a sight to inspire him with lust!’
‘I can’t say what the overalls do for Wayne, of course, but I won’t sully your ears with the effect they have on me.’
She laughed a little breathlessly. ‘If that’s a compliment, thank you, I think.’
His answering laugh was indulgent. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Though I won’t expect breakfast again.’
‘Too true you won’t. It’s Miss Prince’s day. My father’s room is constantly immaculate, of course, a shrine ready for his return. She positively dotes on him. I hope she’ll bring the same enthusiasm to preparing the spare bedroom for my mother.’
Gabriel let Miss Prince in on the stroke of eight next morning as usual, reported on Harry Brett’s progress, and went into consultation about the spare bedroom. Miss Prince, iron-grey of hair and uncertain of age, her spare form always neat in a print dress and striped apron, promptly stated she would not only have the entire house spick and span before she left, but would make Mr Harry his favourite chicken and ham pie as a welcome home present.
By the time her assistants arrived Gabriel had everything out of the vault and into the barn, and was hard at work on the double portrait. But, despite her early start, she made less progress than the day before due to telephone requests for more restoration work, plus a visit from one of Harry’s regular art dealer customers, with two paintings he thought might fetch a good price after Gabriel’s ministrations.
After he’d gone Miss Prince marched into the barn to say she was putting lunch for Miss Gabriel in exactly ten minutes, and would the young men please see to it that she stopped work and went into the house for it. Gabriel gave up for the morning and left the boys to loll in the sunshine with their packed lunches while she ate the Welsh rarebit Miss Prince had whipped up after scouring every bedroom to hospital standard.
‘Wonderful, Miss Prince,’ said Gabriel afterwards. ‘I needed that.’
‘I should think you did. You can’t do a full day’s work without fuel,’ said Miss Prince severely, and poured strong black tea into Gabriel’s mug. ‘You’re just like your father. Once you get in that barn with those old paintings you forget about everything.’
Time rushed by. Gabriel worked hard on the slow, painstaking process of removing varnish from the painting, taking great care not only for Adam’s sake, but to satisfy her father’s critical eye when he inspected it. Laura Brett duly delivered the invalid on the Wednesday afternoon, and Gabriel, to her relief, found that her parents were on amicable terms which showed no sign of deteriorating during the celebratory dinner.
Adam, careful to avoid intrusion on the homecoming, had told her he would leave her in peace while her father was home, and though Gabriel enjoyed the unusual treat of dining with both her parents she found the prospect of even a day without seeing Adam Dysart disturbingly unattractive. Though this was only natural, she assured herself, when they shared such common interests.
It was only when Harry Brett was settled early for the night in his painfully tidy room that Laura, who was as small and dark as Gabriel and her father were tall and fair, sat down at the kitchen table to drink tea with her daughter.
‘You look very tired, darling,’ she commented.
‘I don’t sleep well here. At least not on my own,’ confessed Gabriel, yawning.
Laura suppressed a shiver. ‘I’m not surprised. I always hated it here.’
‘Did you? Why?’
‘Not the house itself exactly. But surely you knew that Charlotte Hayward disapproved of me?’
Gabriel stared in surprise. ‘No. I didn’t.’
‘In her eyes I was a painted Jezebel from London, and not good enough for her beloved Harry, especially when we got married in a rush because you were on the way.’ Laura’s mouth twisted. ‘The jealous old thing loathed me from the start.’
‘Did Dad know that?’
‘He flatly refused to believe it. And Lottie was diabolically clever. She was all sweetness and light when he was around, and an absolute witch when he wasn’t.’ Laura smiled at her daughter’s astonished face. ‘She got her way in the end. She pitched your father a sob story about growing old, and not being able to manage on her own, and begged us to move in with her. Harry was very fond of Lottie, and felt he owed a great deal to her for bringing him up when his parents died. At the time we were pretty broke because his business wasn’t doing well, so he jumped at the idea to solve our financial problems. But once we’d sold our house in Pennington Lottie told me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t welcome in hers. That I could take myself off back to London where I belonged.’
‘Good heavens!’ Gabriel frowned incredulously. ‘Are you telling me that it was Aunt Lottie who was responsible for the break-up?’
‘Yes,’ said Laura simply. ‘I delivered my ultimatum, that if Harry insisted on living here I’d go back to my parents. He didn’t believe I’d do that. And I didn’t believe he’d let me. But somehow things got out of hand—with you the innocent victim of it all.’
‘How extraordinary!’ said Gabriel, shaking her head. ‘Though Aunt Lottie never said a word against you when I came to stay.’
‘I don’t suppose she mentioned me at all,’ said Laura dryly.
Gabriel thought about it. ‘You’re right. She didn’t. But after she died couldn’t you and Dad have got together again?’
‘By then the barns had been converted into a workshop, Harry had taken on staff and business was better.’ Laura shrugged. ‘I was equally busy with the employment agency. It was simply too late for us. Our lives had taken different directions. Besides,’ she added, looking down into her cup, ‘Harry never gave the slightest indication that he wanted me back.’
Gabriel eyed her mother curiously. ‘So what gave you the bright idea of taking him down to Julia’s cottage?’
Laura looked up. ‘I was worried to death about you, Gabriel.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You. I could see you wearing yourself to shreds trying to look after Harry and keep the business running at the same time. So I decided to do something about it. Of course,’ she added, ‘I wasn’t sure how Harry would take it. He could have refused.’
‘He said he’d be mad to turn down a free holiday,’ said Gabriel rather huskily. ‘Though frankly I was beginning to worry myself sick about how I’d manage when he came out of hospital. I’m grateful, Mother. And so, by the look of him tonight, is Dad.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ said Laura briskly. ‘I’ve got a suitcase full of films on video, plus a pile of new bestsellers, and backgammon and chess. The cottage is big enough to give each other space, it’s only a short distance from the beach, and if the weather holds we can go for the long walks Harry’s prescribed as part of his therapy.’
Later that night, after she’d said goodnight to her father again, and made sure he had everything he needed, Gabriel lay awake, deep in thought. How strange that Charlotte Hayward had been responsible for the broken marriage. Though whether Harry Brett knew this, or believed it, wasn’t clear. One rule her parents had never broken in all the years since their divorce. Neither Harry nor Laura had requested personal information about each other until the heart attack.
When her cellphone rang Gabriel snatched it up quickly, pleased that Adam had waited until she was in bed before ringing.
‘You’re late tonight, Adam.’
‘It’s only just after eleven, and who, may I ask, is Adam?’ drawled a very different voice.
‘Jeremy!’ Gabriel recovered herself hurriedly. ‘You’re back, then.’
‘Obviously, dear heart. Didn’t you get my postcard?’
‘If you sent it to London, no. I’m still at Haywards Farm.’
‘Of course—I forgot! How is your father, by the way?’
‘Improving, but by no means back to normal.’
‘Does this mean you’re staying on there for a while?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is Jake Trent happy about that?’
‘I’ve packed in my job, Jeremy. I’m working for my father at the moment. I might even make it a permanent arrangement—or set up my own business. I haven’t decided yet.’
‘You can’t mean to stay down there in the wilds permanently!’
Gabriel’s lips twitched at the horror in his voice. ‘I might.’
‘When are you coming up to London again?’
‘No idea. Not for a while. I’m busy with a very exciting bit of restoration. When the result goes up for auction here do you fancy a trip to Pennington? You might find it interesting.’
‘Would I indeed?’ he said, his attention caught instantly. ‘In that case I may well venture into the wilderness. Is there a civilised hotel there, by any chance?’
‘Of course there is, Jeremy. I’ll let you know the date,’ she promised, stifling a yawn. ‘Must get some sleep. Welcome back, and thanks for ringing—’
‘Not so fast,’ he interrupted. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me how much you missed me?’
She chuckled. ‘I’ve had far too much to do to miss you.’
‘Have you now? Is it the mysterious Adam who’s keeping you so busy, dear heart?’
‘Since it’s his restoration I’m working on, yes, he is. Goodnight, Jeremy.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
BECAUSE Harry Brett insisted on a chat with Wayne and Eddie first, followed by a detailed inspection of the work in progress in the barn, it took a long time to get him off to Wales with Laura next day.
He praised his assistants for their work, then had another look at the double portrait. After a long, careful scrutiny through a magnifying glass in bright sunlight he nodded his head. ‘Even without the confirmation from your Miss Scudamore this is unmistakably Singleton, Gabriel.’ He touched a fingertip to the bottom right-hand corner. ‘The signature should be about there, where the varnish is thickest, so be extra careful pet.’
Gabriel peered over his shoulder, nodding. ‘Adam told me what to expect. Three capital letters entwined in a monogram, the rest of the name in a squiggle.’
‘The instant you can make it out, leave it. Better to leave traces of old varnish than risk removing the signature altogether.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘As if you didn’t know!’
‘How much do you think it’ll fetch, boss?’ asked Eddie, hovering with Wayne in the background.
‘Who knows? No historical value, but the provenance is interesting. And sex sells. Curls and cleavage fetch good prices.’
‘And this is definitely not a copy?’ said Wayne.
‘Definitely. Over the years one develops an eye for certain painters’ styles—it’s like recognising handwriting.’ Harry told him, well into teaching mode. ‘Reynolds used little squiggles of paint as he twisted his brush for the background, Gainsborough a flash of light on a stray hair. Singleton’s more difficult because there’s less of his work for comparison. Like Lawrence and Etty he was a master of skin tone, but he was a prankster. He liked special effects. So I’d lay odds there’s something hidden somewhere in the background.’
‘I think there may a painting of some kind on the wall behind the girls,’ agreed Gabriel. ‘I should know by tonight.’
&
nbsp; ‘So, have you put them all to rights, Harry?’ asked Laura, when they rejoined her.
‘Gabriel doesn’t need any help from me any more. She’s doing a fantastic job.’ Harry eyed his daughter searchingly. ‘Though it can’t be much fun for you, pet, stuck out here on your own all the time.’
‘Now Jeremy’s back,’ said Laura, ‘won’t he drive to see you?’
‘Oh, you know Jeremy,’ said Gabriel carelessly. ‘He’d rather I went up to see him. But he’ll be down for the auction.’
‘You’ve told him about the Singleton?’ said Harry, surprised.
‘Of course not. I just implied it might be worth his while to come to the auction. I thought Adam might appreciate a bit of outside interest to up the stakes.’
‘Speak of the devil,’ said Harry, as a familiar estate car drove up the lane.
‘I’ll make some coffee,’ said Laura promptly.
‘I thought you were in a hurry to be off, Mother,’ said Gabriel, laughing.
‘I can spare a minute or two to meet the famous Adam Dysart!’
Gabriel went outside to intercept Adam on his way to the barn. ‘Come and have some coffee,’ she called.
‘Hi, Gabriel. Sorry to intrude. I thought your parents would have left by now.’ He caught up with her, smiling innocently. ‘I was out this way, picking up a table—’
‘And couldn’t resist coming to look at Henrietta,’ she said, laughing. ‘Come in and meet my mother.’
Laura Brett was no more proof against the Dysart charm than Miss Scudamore had been. Adam, brought up in a houseful of women, was just as at ease with Laura as he was with Harry, and instantly won her to his side by promising to keep an eye on Gabriel while her parents were away.
‘I even offered to sleep on the sofa, but alas she turned me down,’ he said sadly.
‘Personally,’ said Harry quickly, ‘I think that’s not a bad idea. This place is pretty isolated, after all—’
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