She had to enquire her way once or twice, but finally she found herself bumping along an unmade track towards a long, low building just visible through the surrounding trees. The spot was as isolated as if marooned on a desert island. A large but neat garden surrounded the cottage. At one side she could see a line of hen coops, and two tethered goats grazed placidly on the front lawn.
'I'm Briony Kent,' she told the slim dark-haired woman who came to the door. 'I'm from the Blue Unicorn in Gwinvercombe. It's about the advertisement for an assistant craft worker.'
'Strange,' the woman's broad intelligent brow wrinkled, 'I thought the lady I spoke to had some kind of foreign name.'
'That was my partner, Promilla Kadri. It's a Pakistani name.' Briony explained her friend's absence as she followed the woman inside the low-beamed cottage.
It was much larger inside than she'd imagined, and simply furnished, as though the woman were not very well-to-do. But it was spotlessly clean, with freshly whitened roughcast walls and gleaming floorboards. There were evidences everywhere of the woman's skill with her needle—embroidered tablecloths, chairbacks, patchwork cushions, collages.
'I make my own curtains and loose covers, too,' the woman said, following her gaze.
'I don't think there's any doubt that you're just what my friend's looking for,' Briony told her as she took the proffered seat. 'I believe she told you the rates she'd be prepared to pay? All we need to know is how many hours you can give us and on what days?'
'You'd expect me to come into Gwinvercombe, to the shop?' The woman sounded dismayed.
'Well, yes! We need extra help with serving in the shop as well.'
'I thought I'd be able to do the work at home. I've no transport.'
Briony thought quickly. It would be a pity to lose this woman's services. They might never find anyone else as good.
'Would you be prepared to come in if you did have transport?'
'Yes, but…'
'You're not too far from Gwinvercombe here.' The other woman's expression brightened as Briony said, 'How would it be if I came out and fetched you?'
'That would be marvellous! But wouldn't it be an awful nuisance? Especially in winter?'
'It might be sometimes,' Briony said with her usual frankness, 'but,' she smiled, 'it will be worth it to have your help.'
'You'll have a cup of tea?' the woman pressed. 'We don't get many visitors out here, and it's rather lonely now my two older children have left home.'
'How many have you? Will it be a problem leaving them?'
'There's only one left at home. She's at school all day. Besides, she's turned fifteen now. Old enough to look after herself. I wish you could have met her—and my husband. But he has a regular appointment every Monday.'
'I've just realised,' Briony said, a mouthwatering home-made scone half-way to her mouth, 'I don't even know your name. My partner couldn't remember…'
'That's very odd! When I told her, she said it was a name she wasn't likely to forget in a hurry. In fact, I wondered what she meant.' She held out her hand and smiled. 'Better late than never. I'm Rhoda Rawlinson.'
Briony dropped her scone, then spent several minutes apologising profusely as she picked up the crumbs. She needed the time with her flushed face bent over her task to recover from the shock. She'd thought the woman's face was oddly familiar, but assumed she'd seen her before somewhere. Perhaps in Gwinvercombe on market day. But now she realised the familiarity had been Rhoda Rawlinson's likeness to her brother. The grey eyes, with their darker-ringed irises were exactly the same shape as his, though of a slightly warmer hue. Why hadn't Rhoda recognised her name? Oh, heavens! Suppose Matthew hadn't told his wife everything? Suppose Rhoda came to work for the Blue Unicorn and met her husband there? Could Promilla have overlooked such an essential point? For Briony realised now that her visit to Rhoda Rawlinson was a put-up job on her partner's part. She must find out just what the other woman knew.
'I'm sorry, I didn't realise. You're Teale Munro's sister?'
'Yes,' Rhoda Rawlinson looked puzzled. 'You know my brother? Oh… of course.' Enlightenment illuminated her lovely face. 'I didn't connect, but it must be… A craft shop in Gwinvercombe. You have an artists' studio there as well? Where my husband does his painting? I thought I'd heard the name Briony just recently.'
Briony let out a careful breath of relief.
'Your husband's very talented.'
'I know,' Rhoda said simply. 'I just wish he thought so. I'm very grateful for all the help you've given him. Just wait,' she said gleefully, 'till I tell him we're to be working under the same roof.'
Briony just hoped Matthew would approve.
'I never fail to be surprised at people's goodness,' Rhoda said as she showed Briony around the rest of the cottage. 'Take this place, for example. It belongs to my brother. He offered it to me a few years ago when…' She stopped, a slight quiver in her voice, then went on, 'When things weren't going too well for me and the kids. He wouldn't take any rent for it. But now Matthew's…' Again she stopped. 'But, now I'm getting a job, I'll be able to offer him some part of it.'
Briony wondered if, now Matthew was home, he was objecting to living off his brother-in-law's charity and if that was why Rhoda needed a job. Her admiration for Teale's sister was growing by leaps and bounds. She had enjoyed meeting her and had stayed much longer than she'd intended, she realised.
'Goodness! I must get back to the shop. Promilla will be wanting to know the outcome of our meeting. Can I tell her you'll start next week?'
As the car bumped and jolted back down the rutted approach, Briony was disconcerted to see another vehicle coming towards her. There was very little room to pass and she didn't want to end up in the ditch that flanked the track. The Rolls-Royce began to back, its driver flashing his lights at her to advance. Thankfully, she did so. Then she recognised the car. It was Teale's. She hadn't expected to encounter him, especially since Rhoda had said there was another entrance to his property, a made-up drive that led up to the big house. The Rolls reversed into a concealed gateway and she saw that he was getting out. Unaccountably, she stalled her engine.
'Briony?' He leant in at the window and Briony caught a hint of the cologne he used. There was a note of enquiry in his voice. She thought he did not seem altogether pleased to see her. 'What are you doing here?'
'I've been to see your sister.'
'Why?' he demanded sharply.
'I didn't know she was your sister at first.' Hastily, Briony explained her presence. It had struck her that Teale might think she'd come here in the hope of seeing him. And, while she was ridiculously glad they had met, her pride would never have allowed her to go in search of him.
'Rhoda wants a job?' he said incredulously. 'But there's no need for that. Or for you and your friend to help her. She knows I'll always…'
'I got the impression she'd like a break from the house and a bit of independence. And it's not a question of us helping her. Her work is really excellent. We'll be only too pleased to give her as much work as she can handle.' Shyly, she added, 'She's nice, Teale. I like her.' And, as he nodded, as if that was only to be expected, she said, 'I'd better get on.' She restarted her engine, reluctantly admitting to herself that this encounter was not proving to be a successful one and that it would be as well to end it.
'When's the best time for me to come in and collect one of Matthew's pictures?'
Reprieved, she answered eagerly, 'It'll have to be at a weekend, or on a Monday. I can't guarantee he won't be around another day.'
'This weekend, then? Saturday evening? I'm afraid I can't manage any other time.'
She nodded happily. At least then she was certain of seeing him again. Her mood of euphoria lasted for the first few miles of the return journey. Perhaps Teale would be in a more approachable mood by the weekend. He'd seemed a bit prickly today. His manner was almost absent, as if his mind were on other more important things. Which wasn't very flattering. Face it, she told herself, her s
pirits drooping again, he took you out a couple of times to make up for his insulting manner towards you. He probably feels he's squared the account now.
And, talking of squaring accounts…
'Promilla Kadri! I've got a bone to pick with you! You knew exactly who you were sending me to see! What do you think you're playing at?'
'Are you furious?' Promilla looked up guiltily as Briony levied her accusation.
'I ought to be!' Briony sighed. 'But no, I'm not.' She collapsed into the chair kept for customers. 'Just amazed that you could be so devious.'
'I thought it was a good opportunity for you to meet Teale's sister and get another view of the situation.'
'Yes, I am glad I've met Rhoda, and she'll be a tremendous asset.' Briony told her friend the terms of their agreement. 'And I bumped into Teale. I suppose,' ironically, 'you weren't hoping for that as well?'
Promilla shrugged plump shoulders, her round face mischievously creased. 'It was always on the cards. Did it do any good?'
'Not in the way you mean. He's coming over Saturday evening. But it's not really to see me.'
'You don't know that,' Promilla pointed out after she'd heard Teale's plans for Matthew's work. 'The painting could be just an excuse.'
'I wish I could think so, but I don't. Teale's only interest, so far as I can see, is in helping his sister. There's a special bond between twins they say.'
Nevertheless, this did not stop Briony looking forward to Saturday evening with nervous anticipation. She'd been on edge all week, unable to concentrate on her painting. It was only excitement on Matthew's behalf, she tried telling herself, the hope that his work would receive the recognition it richly deserved.
At five-thirty, she closed up the shop and went through to the kitchen. Normally at this time of day Promilla was at the cooker, preparing high tea. Instead, she emerged from her bedroom wearing a light raincoat.
'All right if I take the car? You won't be wanting it?'
'Where on earth are you going?' Promilla never went out in the evening. She much preferred to sit in front of the television, dividing her time between the programmes and her sewing.
'I'm going into Ilfracombe. Remember I told you, Sukie Wareing is taking me to see the customer who was here the other day? I'm to plan a whole colour scheme for her bedroom.'
'I thought she said that would do any time. Why tonight? Promilla, you're up to something!' Briony realized. 'You're going out deliberately, because Teale's coming.' A little desperately, she pleaded, 'There's no need to be tactful. He'll probably only be here five minutes.'
'Who's being tactful?' Promilla retorted. 'Can't I have a Saturday evening out if I feel like it? Are you turning into some sort of slave-driver?'
Briony wasn't a bit deceived, and she watched her partner's departure with a mixture of affection and amused exasperation. It wouldn't be her friend's fault if she didn't end up in Teale Munro's arms. She shivered at the thought.
She'd told Promilla that Teale would probably be there five minutes. Nevertheless, she took as much care over her appearance as if he would be spending several hours with her. The September evenings were growing cool, but it was too soon for fires, so she settled for hip-hugging black slacks and a fluffy angora sweater whose blue matched her eyes and whose softness emphasised her deceptively fragile femininity.
Even though she was expecting Teale, the doorbell made Briony jump and she nearly dropped the cup she was drying. She hadn't felt like eating a substantial meal and she'd settled for cheese on toast and a pot of tea. She counted to ten and made herself move slowly to the door, even when the bell pealed another urgent summons.
'Hello.' He stepped inside briskly, bringing a breath of damp sea air with him. The scent mingled with his cologne. Briony felt overpowered by his height and proximity. She moved hastily aside. 'It's raining,' he told her. 'I was beginning to think you weren't in, after all. That you'd forgotten I was coming.' As if she could!
She bolted the door and led the way up to the studio, acutely aware of him following close behind her. She'd set Matthew's paintings out in a long line.
'I got them ready for you. There are several more since the last time you looked. They get better and better. Oh, I do hope you can interest the gallery in them.' She realised her voice was too high. She was gabbling nervously and he was looking at her rather oddly.
After careful consideration, Teale selected two. One was a large still life of fruit and flowers. It was the one Briony would have chosen herself. It wasn't the latest, but it was certainly the best of Matthew's recent efforts. From the early days of thick, swirling paint, he had progressed to a slightly more serene brush movements. But his style was still very distinctive, his use of reds still predominant. She wasn't sure why Teale had chosen the other. It was one of the first Matthew had done, a disturbing abstract of swirling primary colours that captured yet tortured the eye. But when she questioned Teale he merely looked vague and said he just had a hunch about it.
Briony provided cardboard corners to protect the frames, and preceded Teale as he carried the pictures downstairs. Following her intuition, she headed straight for the outer door and was surprised when he did not immediately follow her. She turned round to look at him and saw him regarding her quizzically.
'In a hurry to be rid of me? Are you very busy this evening?'
'No, not really. That is… no busier than usual. I mean…'
'What's wrong, Briony?' He leant the paintings against the counter and came towards her. He stood so close that she was hard put to it not to retreat. Gently, he asked, 'Have I annoyed you again in some way?'
'Of course not.' She plucked nervously at the fluffy sleeve of her sweater. 'I just thought… Well, you only came for the pictures, didn't you?'
'Is that what's offended you?' He sounded amused. 'Because you thought…'
'I'm not in the least offended! Why should I be?' But she was hurt, quite unreasonably so, she reminded herself. Their acquaintance was of the most casual kind.
'Oh, Briony!' His tone was gently mocking now. 'You're a very bad liar.'
CHAPTER FOUR
'You're a very bad liar,' Teale repeated. 'You are offended! Did you really think I'd just walk out with these pictures under my arm? Naturally, I've been waiting for you to invite me in for a coffee.'
Briony looked at him doubtfully. He could just be saying that, to spare her feelings.
Teale misinterpreted her misgivings. 'What is it, Briony? Is Promilla out? You're alone? I can assure you, a coffee is all I had in mind.'
'I realise that!' she said indignantly. 'And I hardly think I need a chaperone. You're very welcome to a coffee if you can really spare the time.'
She led the way through to the living quarters, remembering the annoyance she'd felt at his uninvited invasion; was it only a month ago? Strange how the situation had changed in so short a space of time.
Teale eased his lean length down on to a couch which was artistically draped with bright blue, yellow and red Iranian kilims. He looked around the terracotta-painted room appreciatively.
'This room has tremendous individuality. It's very colourful.' And, as Tara the Siamese strolled towards him and sniffed disdainfully at his shoe, he remarked, 'I see you like cats. Me too—any animals, in fact. You two girls certainly have the gift of home-making. Rhoda has the knack, too. She'd like this room.'
'I hope she'll be seeing it soon,' Briony told him. 'She starts work here on Monday.'
'Yes. I wanted to talk to you about that—among other things.'
'Oh?' Briony regarded him warily. Did he still disapprove of his sister being employed at the Blue Unicorn?
'Mmm. There's absolutely no need for you to pick Rhoda up every morning. She can use my car most days and, failing that, I'll drive her to the nearest bus stop.'
'That would be a help,' Briony admitted. She went into the kitchen and switched on the percolator. 'Now and again we oversleep, and even though we live on the premises we only get into the s
hop on time by the skin of our teeth. I suppose it's because we keep such late hours,' she told him. She hovered in the communicating doorway, unable to relax. 'Sometimes, if a painting's going well, I'll work until two or three in the morning.' She realised from Teale's quizzical expression that she was talking too much again.
'Come and sit down while the coffee perks,' he told her. 'I can't talk to you when you're flitting in and out of the kitchen like that.' He indicated a place beside him on the couch and Briony swallowed nervously as she obeyed. 'Why,' he said almost to himself, 'do I feel this continual compulsion to explain myself to you? Even though I have very rational reasons for what must seem to you my irrational dislike of Matthew Rawlinson.' His grey eyes appraised her small, heart-shaped face. His gaze rested for a long moment on the full, soft lips of her generous mouth and Briony was afraid he would notice their responsive quiver. .
'I haven't asked you to explain anything,' she reminded him.
'No. Unlike most women I know, you're strangely lacking in curiosity.'
'Not really,' she admitted. 'I just don't feel it's any of my business.'
'When I first walked into your shop and saw you,' he went on, still speaking musingly, 'the first thing that struck me was the likeness. And I thought, oh God, no, not again. There can't be two in the world like that.' For a moment, there was such pain in his voice that Briony looked wonderingly at him. 'Those enormous blue eyes, the red curls, same shaped face. But there, thank God, I'm beginning to believe, the resemblance ends.'
'I remind you of someone?' It wasn't hard to deduce. 'Who?'
'My wife, my ex-wife. Charlene. But perhaps you didn't know I'd been married?' And, as Briony nodded an affirmative, he went on, 'It was Charlene I referred to when I said Matthew had a penchant for redheads. To put it bluntly, Matthew Rawlinson had an affair with my wife.' Briony gasped; whatever revelations she'd expected, it hadn't been that. 'And I have a strong suspicion,' Teale went on grimly, 'that he's the father of the child she bore. Which is why I didn't contend custody after the divorce.' He seemed to be waiting for some kind of comment.
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