‘And you waited till now to report it?’
‘Yes.’ This wasn’t going well, Jess thought. ‘I didn’t really think anything of it until I noticed this missing sheet of paper in my files.’
‘And you’re certain you haven’t mislaid it?’
‘Positive.’
‘Did you check whether anyone in your office came into the building late at night? A cleaner, perhaps?’
‘Yes,’ said Jess reluctantly, ‘that’s possible but apparently the cleaners aren’t normally there in the middle of the night.’
Bonetti sighed. ‘Well, I appreciate your calling, but I’m afraid my hands are tied. You should have reported the break-in, if that’s what it was, when you saw it happening last night. It’s very difficult for us to follow up a theft hours after the event.’
‘I know. I’m sorry about that.’
‘I can send an officer round if you like, to check the place over and give you some advice about security in the future.’
‘Thank you.’ Jess hesitated. She was tempted to report Elinor’s suspicions about Blake, but something told her to wait. Elinor was understandably jealous of Blake, given her attachment to her twin, and it wasn’t at all clear that her allegation against him had any substance to it.
‘Do get in touch, won’t you, if there’s anything else you’re concerned about.’ Bonetti seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Anything at all.’
‘I will. Thanks for your help.’
‘No problem.’ Bonetti paused. ‘D’you want to take my mobile number? Just in case I’m not here when you call. I’m out and about a lot.’
‘Oh. Of course.’ Jess took the number, feeling somewhat reassured. Bonetti was evidently taking her call seriously, albeit that she hadn’t been able to help in this instance.
‘Call any time. Day or night. Don’t hesitate.’
‘OK.’
There was a noise, as if a door had opened, and the chatter resumed again.
‘Right, then, Dr Mayhew.’ Bonetti raised her voice again, adopting her usual cheerful tone. ‘Bye.’
‘Bye.’
Jess put the phone down and picked up the notes. Then she got up, went over to the filing cabinet, and stashed them away. She was annoyed with herself. Why hadn’t she called the police right away last night, when she saw the light on? Bonetti obviously couldn’t do much about the situation now. However, she mused, on the plus side, Bonetti had given the distinct impression that she was still investigating the Ursula Powell murder – perhaps without her superiors’ approval, judging by the way she’d lowered her voice when discussing it. So she’d be keeping an eye on Blake’s movements, with any luck. And perhaps that would help to provide some protection for Elinor, wherever she might be.
11
That Saturday Jess and Mari met at a fashionable tea house in an elegant residential area on the east side of Cardiff, where Mari lived. The place overlooked a pretty Victorian park with a stream running through it. The cherry trees in the park had recently burst into blossom, and there were daisies and buttercups in the grass, but the weather was still so cold that the spring scene had a somewhat surreal air, like a film set. The park was deserted, but the tea house was full of people, the windows steaming up as they chatted to each other.
Mari was wearing a tight forties-style dress in a purple pansy print, with a crochet shrug over the top. As ever, she looked stunning. Jess was dressed more soberly, but no less formally, in a grey wool skirt and cardigan, with the collar of a white lace blouse showing underneath. From time to time the pair of them liked to don their best afternoon outfits and sally forth for proper tea and in-depth conversation in town – as, no doubt, their grandmothers had done centuries before them.
They ordered their teas, and while they waited for them to come, discussed Mari’s part in the play. Rehearsals were going well, and she’d recently taken up again with an old flame, an actor who was playing the central role. It wasn’t a great love affair, but she was enjoying his company, both in the theatre and outside. As ever, she was full of amusing anecdotes about the director and the rest of the cast, poking fun at them with sly observations that were sharp but not unkind.
The teas arrived. Each was served in an individual pot, along with a small bowl for drinking out of, and an egg timer, so that you could brew the tea for exactly the right amount of time, as instructed by the waiter. The ritual was fun, rather than pernickety, and they both enjoyed it. Jess had chosen Jasmine Pearl, her favourite – little buds of green tea that unfurled as they heated up, releasing their scent – while Mari had gone for White Peony.
The waiter left, and they resumed their conversation.
‘So how’s your new beau?’ Mari said. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘He’s not my beau. He’s just . . .’
Mari tilted her head to one side and looked at her quizzically.
‘Well, I’m not sure what he is.’ Jess nodded at Mari’s pot of tea. ‘Hadn’t you better pour yours out?’
‘Don’t change the subject.’ Mari picked up her pot and began to pour. ‘I want to know all about him.’
‘Well, there’s not much to tell. As you know—’
‘You shagged him.’
‘Really, Mari.’ Jess rolled her eyes. ‘That’s such a crude expression.’
‘All right, then. He did the merengue with your inner goddess. With some salsa moves.’
Jess laughed. She glanced at the egg timer, saw that her tea was ready to pour out, and did so. Then she picked up her cup and inhaled the aroma. It was delicious, perfumed yet with a sour, pungent note. She breathed out again, and felt herself beginning to relax.
‘We did make love, yes.’ She lowered her cup and took a sip of tea, feeling slightly embarrassed. ‘It was . . . well, thoroughly enjoyable. For both of us, I think.’
‘Good. So you like him?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Jess couldn’t help smiling as she spoke. ‘He’s interested in my work, and I’m interested in his. We had proper discussions about psychotherapy, and art, and stuff. I never did that with Bob. I didn’t realize it mattered before, having so much in common. But it does. To me, anyway.’
Mari smiled back. ‘And after the discussions?’
‘It was great. The sex was easy. Natural. He was very affectionate, too. In fact, I’ve been feeling high ever since, like a teenage girl having her first romance. Daydreaming about him, whenever I get a moment to myself. I’d completely forgotten how that felt.’
Mari reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Well, I’m really happy for you, Jess. You certainly deserve it, after everything you’ve been through.’ She paused. ‘So when are you going to see him again?’
‘Soon, I think. He’s very keen. He’s been texting me two or three times a day.’ Jess put down her cup. ‘I’ve never been wooed by text before. When Bob and I were courting it was all windy telephone boxes, or messages on the answerphone, and you couldn’t leave anything too passionate on that, in case your flatmate heard it.’
Mari grinned. ‘I know, I remember. This is much more fun, isn’t it? There’s something so erotic about these intimate words of love winging in on the ether, especially when they come in while you’re shopping in the supermarket.’
‘Or in a meeting.’
‘Or in the bath.’
‘Or having a conversation with the plumber about drains.’
They laughed.
‘I sometimes get cold feet, though.’ Jess was serious again. ‘I mean, I don’t really know him at all. He may not turn out to be suitable.’
‘Suitable for what? You’re not going to marry him, are you? Just take him as your lover.’ Mari pronounced the word ‘lover’ with a theatrical flourish.
There was a lull in the conversation. They both stirred their teas and looked out through the window at the pink cherry blossom under the leaden grey sky in the park.
‘So when’s the next date, then?’
‘He wants us to go away together next weekend.’
�
��Well, why not?’ Mari waved an airy hand. ‘You could go to Paris, or Barcelona. Fly straight from Cardiff, or Bristol.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ Jess was taken aback. ‘I wouldn’t want to go too far afield, not at this stage.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Maybe I could take him somewhere in Wales. He’d like that, I think.’
‘Make a change from London, even if the weather is dire.’
‘Is there anywhere you could recommend?’
‘Romantic, you mean?’
‘Mmm. Or unusual, historical in some way.’
Mari thought about it. ‘Yes, there is, actually. Years ago, I went to this extraordinary place called Tŵr Tal. The Tall Tower. It’s perched up on a windy hillside, overlooking a valley known as Cwm Du.’
Cwm Du. Jess recognized the name. It was the place where
Elinor had gone camping.
‘Twelfth century. Spectacular views.’ Mari sipped her tea, a look of relish on her face as she began her story. ‘At one time it became a meeting point for various bohemian artists who lived round there, including Augustus John.’
Jess was intrigued. Perhaps Elinor had gone up there because of the family connection.
‘He and his pals, Jacob Epstein and Eric Gill, had this mad idea. They wanted to make it the headquarters of a religion celebrating sexuality.’ Mari raised an eyebrow.
‘Wasn’t there a biography of Gill a while back, claiming that he was a sexual monster?’
‘That’s right. It all came out years after he died. No one was safe, apparently. His sister. His children. His dog.’ Mari grimaced. ‘I often think of that when I go up to the BBC and see his sculptures festooned all over Broadcasting House.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, nothing ever came of the religion. They all fell out with each other, and went their separate ways, which was probably just as well. But after that, the tower became the headquarters of this tantric sex cult. I went up there once with a boyfriend, Iestyn.’ Mari’s eyes didn’t exactly mist over, but there was a dreamy look in them. ‘It was a bit of a disaster, though. The place was shabby, freezing cold, and there were these terrible sessions on body movement, which consisted mostly of horrible old men touching up the women.’ She shivered dramatically. ‘In the end, the whole thing folded, which was no surprise, and then the place was bought up and converted into a hotel. A friend of mine went up there the other day. He said it was fabulous. Rather old-fashioned, in a quirky kind of way, but very atmospheric.’
Jess thought for a moment. It sounded like the kind of place Dresler would find fascinating. And while they were there, she reflected, she might give Elinor a call, just to see if she was all right.
‘Thanks, Mari.’ She finished her cup of tea, picked up the teapot, and began to pour another. ‘I’ll check it out. Sounds as though it might be just the place.’
At that point, the waiter came over with an ornate cake stand loaded with scones and slices of cake. He put it down on the table, along with plates, knives and napkins.
Jess looked surprised. ‘Did you order this, Mari?’
Mari nodded a little sheepishly. ‘Yes. It’s on me. I thought we deserved a bit of a treat.’
‘What for?’
‘Oh, just getting to the end of the week.’ She picked up a hefty slice of Victoria sponge and began to eat.
‘Well, thanks.’ Jess hesitated, then chose a scone. ‘Although I shouldn’t really. After all, I’ve got my new beau to think of.’
‘Just work it off in bed.’ Mari spoke with her mouth full. ‘Ten minutes’ foreplay, fifteen for the main event, works off eighty-eight calories. Double that if you do it twice. I read it on the Internet.’
‘Really?’ Jess added a dollop of cream and a teaspoon of strawberry jam to the scone. She took a bite. It was meltingly smooth in her mouth. ‘Well, maybe I don’t need to worry, then.’
‘I wouldn’t, cariad.’ Mari took another bite of cake. ‘Not if I were you.’
Jacob Dresler called on the Sunday evening. Jess told him about the place Mari had mentioned, the Tŵr Tal. He was intrigued, and suggested they go there the following weekend. He needed to come down to a meeting at the museum, which he could easily set up for Friday afternoon. Then they could head off to the countryside together. So that was settled, all with a blessed lack of fuss or game-playing on either side. Jess said she’d book the hotel, and pick him up outside the museum early Friday evening.
When he rang off, she went online and found the hotel’s website. It seemed a simple place, rather basic even, but the scenery in the area was breathtaking. There were beautiful walks, cosy pubs and restaurants nearby, and if the weather was bad, they could simply ‘cwtch’ – snuggle up – by the fireside in the hotel, and watch the rain beat against the windows.
Over the next few days, she and the girls settled the weekend’s arrangements. Rose wanted to stay with Bob and Tegan, and they had agreed to have her; Nella would be staying home, with Gareth in attendance. Mari would be close by in case anything went wrong, and Jess herself could get back easily enough, should the need arise. Only Mari knew where Jess was going, and who with – at this stage, Jess thought it best to keep Dresler out of the picture as far as Bob and the girls were concerned. At some point, if all continued to go well, she’d introduce him to the family; but for now, she preferred to keep their affair a secret. It was a sensible decision, she felt – and it also added a certain frisson of excitement to the proceedings.
After work, as promised, Jess picked Dresler up outside the museum. When she saw him standing outside on the steps, waiting for her, she felt a moment’s panic, realizing that she hardly knew this man. She’d spent the night with him, of course, but since then they’d only been in touch by phone. Now they had two whole days – and nights – to spend together. What if, after that first night’s passion, they found they weren’t so keen, after all? What if the weekend dragged, and she had to make up an excuse to get away? What if he did off-putting things in front of her, like flossing his teeth? What if . . .
She needn’t have worried. When he got into the car, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, immediately establishing a companionable intimacy between them, as if they were old friends. He brought with him a scent of cold air, and rain, and an enthusiasm for adventure that was infectious.
Jess moved the car out into the traffic, heading through the city towards the motorway.
‘I’m so looking forward to this,’ he said.
She looked sideways at him, and couldn’t help but smile. He really was attractive: a man in his late forties, his hair greying slightly at the temples, his chin dark with stubble, lines etched around his eyes. Yet there was an expression on his face that reminded her of a ten-year-old boy.
‘I hope you’ll like it.’
‘Of course I will.’ He leaned over and kissed her cheek again. This time she felt passion stir in her, remembering their night together, but she continued to look straight ahead.
‘Don’t. I’ll have an accident.’
He laughed, and moved away. ‘I must say, Dr Mayhew, you’re looking particularly gorgeous today.’
‘Thank you.’
Jessica had dressed with care. It had been a difficult task, trying to combine practicality with glamour, but she felt she’d pulled it off. She was wearing a shortish black sweater dress, thick tights and ankle boots. The button pendant hung round her neck, just to give the whole outfit a bit of a lift.
‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ she added, as they hit the motorway. It was beginning to get dark, and the rush-hour traffic, which Jess had hoped to avoid, slowed them down, but once they got past Newport and the various junctions, the road cleared. Jess put her foot down and they cruised at speed along the valley roads, leaving the cars behind. When the mountains came into view, silhouetted against the darkening sky, they fell silent, awed by their brooding majesty.
As she drove along, they began to settle into conversation, catching up on what had been happening since they last met. Dresler to
ld her about his son, Seth, who’d been arguing with his mother, Kitty, about smoking weed, as he called it. Jess described Nella’s lackadaisical attitude towards her studies, and touched on the fact that Rose was missing her sister, now that Nella was so involved with Gareth. She didn’t add that Rose was also missing Bob, or that she’d been singing his new girlfriend’s praises ever since she’d met her. She felt instinctively that, at this stage of the game, Dresler wouldn’t want to know too much about her emotional dealings with her ex; neither did she enquire too closely about his own. Later, that might change; but for now, here they were, bowling along a deserted road in Black Valley, as the first stars of the evening came out, and wondering, like two young lovers, what lay before them that night. Their respective families were growing ever more distant as the miles passed; for now, it was best to keep them that way – out of sight and out of mind.
Eventually, the conversation turned to work. As usual, Jess could only talk in the most general of terms about her patients. She couldn’t mention what was uppermost in her mind: that Elinor had left therapy, and hadn’t yet returned; that she was probably camping somewhere near the tower; and that Isobel had come looking for her, possibly at the behest of Blake. She didn’t mention the notes missing from her consulting room, or Elinor’s fears that Blake might be behind the theft of the painting. It was frustrating for her to keep silent on these matters, since Dresler knew the family, and could perhaps have shed some light on them. So instead, she listened carefully to what Dresler had to say about his world, fascinated by the internecine conflicts he described regarding the Morris paintings, but also hoping to glean some information.
‘The museum is very happy with the Morris purchase. The reviews have been excellent, and it’s already drawn in a fair amount of people. But they want Morris to do publicity. Give interviews, and so on. And, of course, he won’t.’
‘Can’t you persuade him?’
‘I’m not sure I want to try. You see, I admire his stance. He’s explained it in his correspondence with me.’ A tone of pride crept into Dresler’s voice as he spoke. Hearing it, Jess realized that he was somewhat protective of his special relationship with the reclusive Morris. ‘It’s a political gesture on his part, you see.’
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