'Did you see who attacked you, darling? Was it the same man as before?' Honor's worried frown changed to a look of astonishment at the mischievous smile that lit Judith's face.
'No, sis, it wasn't—that I do know!' Judith laughed a little, then winced, and Honor got up to go. Judith's eyes flew open as Honor leaned down to kiss her good night. In consternation she stared at the stains on Honor's pretty cream dress. 'What on earth—is that mine?' Remembrance suddenly returned to her. 'Kevin said Rafael was covered in blood too. Have I any left, for heaven's sake?'
'The odd pint or two—don't worry. If you're very good perhaps you can come home tomorrow.'
'I'm so sorry, Honor—right in the thick of Arts Week, too. I'll try not to get in the way.' Judith patted Honor's cheek in remorse. 'By the way, don't tell Mother. Imagine her reaction if she heard I'd been attacked with the proverbial blunt instrument!'
'We'll tell her when you feel better. Good night, love.' Honor squeezed Judith's hand and turned to go.
'When you see Rafael tell him I'm sorry about his shirt,' murmured Judith, half asleep.
'I will. Go to sleep now, good night.'
Judith was allowed home next morning. Her X-ray had been normal and she was perfectly rational, so she was discharged with a warning to keep very quiet, and to take the rest of the week off. Honor was waiting with a change of clothes, and drove her back to Chantry -Cottage in her old Morris Minor well before ten.
'Can I trust you to stay quietly on the sofa while I do my stint at Gresham House?' asked Honor, with an air of militance rather unusual for her. She looked tired, and Judith was consumed with guilt.
'Yes, of course, love. I'm fine, honestly. Did I cause a tremendous fuss last night?'
'You certainly did,' said Honor bluntly. 'Luckily the party broke up about half an hour after you left, everyone there being so much involved in the rest of Arts Week, and Martin felt Rafael had done more than enough anyway. The Greshams gave me a lift home and there you were, literally lying in the gutter, blood over your face, looking like a corpse.' Her face suddenly creased, and tears gathered in her eyes. 'God, Judith, it was such a ghastly shock!'
Remorsefully Judith put her arms round her sister and held her close.
'I'm terribly sorry, love, but I never dreamed of anything like that happening in staid old Hardwick.'
Honor sniffed and detached herself, wiping her eyes with a tissue, a watery smile on her face.
'You should have heard the commotion when the car stopped. Miss Gresham was the only one to keep cool; Martin was barking orders in true parade-ground manner while Rafael threw himself out of the car and wrapped his jacket round you before picking you up, swearing volubly in what I presume was Spanish, by which time most of the neighbours were either in the street or hanging out of windows to see what was causing the commotion.'
'A bit late weren't they? I could have done with more interest earlier on!'
Honor pushed Judith gently down on the sofa. Judith subsided gratefully, glad of the cushions Honor piled behind her. She had studied her reflection in the hospital mirror earlier that morning, and had felt rather depressed by it, but sensibly consoled herself with the thought that it could have been worse.
Honor brought her a tray of coffee, left books and magazines and prepared to depart.
'By the way,' asked Judith, 'did you take my bits and pieces of jewellery before I went into X-ray?'
Honor bit her lip. 'No, love. That's why the man mugged you, I'm afraid. He took off with your purse and all the jewellery you were wearing.'
Judith put a brave face on it until Honor left, but when she was alone she turned her face into her pillow and wept. Her gold signet ring and watch had been presents from her parents on her twenty-first birthday, and to make things worse she had been wearing the garnet pendant and earrings left to her by her grandmother. The thief was welcome to the purse and the money in it, but the other items were all of sentimental rather than intrinsic value, and irreplaceable. Her tears lasted only a short time before she took herself in hand. The outcome could have been much more sinister, she told herself firmly. The trinkets were, after all, only things. The man could have really beaten her up, or worse, which would really have been something to moan about.
Judith's peace was short-lived. Mrs Dean, from the cottage next door, rang the bell shortly afterwards to ask perfunctorily how she was before firing questions about Rafael David at her, going on at length about how thrilling it must have been to have been borne off to hospital in his arms—almost worth being mugged for, she laughed, and went off reluctantly when Judith seemed unable to enjoy the joke. Mrs Dean was the first of many. A steady stream of neighbours 'just popped in' until Judith began to feel like a sideshow at a fair, and was thoroughly out of sorts by the time Honor came rushing in at noon.
'I feel like a freak at a fairground,' Judith said, trying to laugh, but her head was aching abominably and Honor was quick to note how heavy her sister's eyes looked, and how pale she was beneath the tan.
'Let me get you a spot of lunch, then I must dash off to the church—there's a piano recital there, and tonight it's the Tudor Masque in the Court House, so I'll be pretty well occupied today, I'm afraid. I hate leaving you—'
'I don't want lunch, Honor, and I'll be just fine. I'll get something for myself when I'm a bit more disposed towards food,' said Judith firmly. 'Just forget all about me and—'
The doorbell rang, and Honor went to answer it, returning with an exquisite bouquet of red carnations. Judith's eyebrows shot into her hair as she took the card from the envelope. It said quite simply 'Rafael'. She thrust it at Honor, and lay back, groaning.
'What's he trying to do, Honor? Do you mean to say he ordered those from the florist in town? I'll be the sole topic of conversation in Hardwick for weeks!'
'No, he didn't,' said Honor severely. 'He ordered them from Coventry and obviously paid an arm and a leg to have them delivered all the way over here, so don't be so ungracious.'
Judith looked a little shame-faced. 'I beg his pardon in absentia. It's just that I don't like all this sudden notoriety—oh my God!'
It was the doorbell again. Honor returned with a tall young constable, who removed his helmet and greeted Judith politely as he took out his notebook.
'This is P.C. Baker, Judith,' said Honor. 'My sister, Judith Russell, constable.'
'Good afternoon, Miss Russell. If I could just have a few details about your unfortunate mishap last night?'
Judith smiled as politely as she could manage, and supplied the grave young policeman with as much information as she could, which added up to very little when it was down on paper.
'Would you recognise him if you saw him again?' asked P.C. Baker.
'It was very dark, and the man had something over his face—I think it was a stocking. I have no idea what he looked like. I just had an impression of height, and the man was fairly hefty; beyond that nothing. It all happened so quickly.'
The policeman rose to leave. 'We've had one or two break-ins in the town recently. Possibly the burglar has extended his field to G.B.H.—grievous bodily harm, miss,' he added. He made a list of the jewellery taken and took his leave.
Honor saw him out and came back, shaking her head. 'They say it's a sign of age when the policemen start looking young, but that one looked barely out of school!'
'I don't think he holds out much chance of recovering the jewellery,' said Judith, sighing. 'Never mind—' she caught sight of her watch. 'You'd better get your skates on, Honor, or you'll be late.'
'Heavens, yes.' Honor gave a worried look at Judith. 'Are you sure you'll be all right? You look very washed out.'
'I'll be just fine after a rest,' said Judith firmly, 'now for goodness sake get back to your piano recital.'
Not long after Honor's departure a reporter turned up at the cottage, complete with photographer, demanding chapter and verse about Judith's attack, plus any details about Rafael David she could supply. Judith adamantly
refused to let them in, or to give any details, much less allow herself to be photographed with her head wound on display, and the ensuing heated argument left her so aerated she banged the door shut in the young men's faces and collapsed on the sitting-room sofa wishing she were in Timbuctu or Tibet, or anywhere but Hardwick at that particular moment in time.
It was a quieter after that. Thoroughly worn out Judith slipped off into an uneasy doze, disturbed by vague formless dreams, waking finally to the insistent shrill of the telephone. She sat up groggily and stared balefully at the instrument on the writing desk. It went on ringing, torturing her sensitive head, and she got up to answer it merely to stop the noise. Her cautious 'hello' was answered by Miss Gresham's brisk, cheerful voice.
'Judith? Lavinia Gresham here. How are you feeling, my dear?'
'Not too bad, thank you. I'd feel better if my neighbours were less well-meaning, I'm afraid. I'm a bit of a nine-day wonder at the moment.'
Miss Gresham chuckled. 'I can imagine. Honor's just been telling me about your morning, and I gather the police have been, as well as all your visitors, which leads me to my suggestion. Why not come over here for a day or so, until you feel better.'
Judith blinked, not certain what Miss Gresham meant.
'I'm sorry,' she said blankly, 'over where?'
'To Gresham House. Plenty of peace and quiet, rooms to spare. Have a good rest before you start pummelling your patients about again.'
'That's awfully kind, but I couldn't impose. I mean you already have a guest. Besides there's Honor …'
'She'll come and stay too, of course. Very convenient anyway, if she's at Martin's beck and call this week. And don't worry about our other guest. He's leaving.' There was a discernible dry note in the kind, casual voice.
Judith wavered, not knowing what to say, then it occurred to her how marvellous it would be for Honor, her mind made up as the doorbell began ringing again. She would go mad if she stayed here.
'Well, in that case, Miss Gresham, I accept gratefully. I would like a break from my sudden popularity.' The caller had taken to banging the knocker and leaning on the bell at the same time, and Judith was barely able to make out something about a car calling for her in ten minutes before she put the receiver down.
Irritably Judith threw open the door to find yet another reporter, who was even more importunate than the one earlier, but she gave him short shrift and got rid of him by the simple expedient of refusing to say anything at all before closing the door with a final click. Angry and tired she climbed the stairs wearily to put a few things in an overnight bag. A glimpse of her face in her dressing-table mirror was depressing, and she brushed her hair gingerly, wincing at the sharp spasm of pain as she ventured too near her wound. One eyelid was already dark with a rapidly ripening bruise, so eye make-up seemed pointless. She touched a lipstick to her mouth, arranged her hair as skilfully as possible to hide the dressing, then went slowly downstairs as she heard a car draw up outside. It was the Gresham Range Rover, with Harry Carey, the bailiff, at the wheel. He rang the bell and Judith picked up her bag, collected her novel to put in it, and went to the door. Harry greeted her sympathetically and helped her into the front seat, winking cheerfully at her as the curtains twitched in various windows nearby.
'Bet they wonder what you're up to next,' he said cheerfully as he drove off.
'I'm better entertainment than Arts Week at the moment,' answered Judith with a rueful smile. 'There hasn't been so much excitement in Chantry Lane for years!'
It was only a short distance to Gresham House, which was on the outskirts of the town, its extensive grounds forming the west boundary of Abbey Park. Judith had never been inside the gardens before, and looked about her with interest as they drove along a winding carriage-way through parkland dotted with Jacobs sheep before halting on the balustraded stretch of ground in front of the Palladian facade of the house. There was a pair of stone staircases leading up to the big main portico, and Judith eyed them with a sigh. Normally she could have run up them easily with a suitcase under each arm, but today their steep ascent looked like a mountain face. While Harry was helping her alight from the car a man strolled round the corner of the great grey stone pile and came towards them. Judith stared at him in dismay.
'I thought you were leaving!' she blurted, without finesse, and Rafael David's lean-featured face looked quizzical as he strolled up to the Range Rover.
'I am. Soon.' He smiled at Harry Carey and held out his hand for Judith's bag. 'Come, Miss Russell. You look a little fragile. Let me help you up the steps.'
With a word of thanks to the bailiff Judith found herself firmly but gently assisted up the long flight of stone steps to the house.
'I can manage, really,' she protested, but the rock-hard arm stayed under her elbow until they reached the top. With embarrassment she suddenly remembered the flowers, hot at her lack of manners.
'I must thank you for the carnations, Mr David,' she said stiffly, avoiding the brilliant eyes that were examining her face with such solicitude. All her impressions of the evening before had been hazy, with Rafael David and his operatic roles all fused into some costumed, theatrical prototype, but now, in the clear light of day, this man in the casual dark blue track suit was different. Muscular and non-fictional, with no atmosphere of the theatre about him at all.
'I'm glad they pleased you,' he said gravely, and ushered her into the big, galleried hall. 'Miss Gresham apologises that she was obliged to attend the piano recital, and says you are to make yourself at home and I am to take great care of you until she returns.' He pulled a bell-cord at the side of the fireplace. 'Mrs Carey, the housekeeper, will show you to your room, then perhaps you will join me in the conservatory for a late lunch?'
Judith thanked him formally, then turned away to greet Mrs Carey as she appeared from the back of the house. Here she was on familiar ground at least, as Mrs Carey had once been one of her patients.
'Hello, Mrs C, how's the shoulder these days?' she asked as she followed the woman up past the portraits lining the staircase.
'Much better, Miss Russell. But how are you? None too clever, by the look of you.' The woman's plump face was sympathetic. 'Coming to something when a decent girl can't walk the streets if she's a mind to.'
Judith concealed a grin at Mrs Carey's ambiguous turn of phrase, and followed her into a pleasant airy bedroom at the back of the house. It overlooked a terrace with steps leading down to a formal rose-garden with a little stone fountain. The distant tinkling of the water was soothing; so was the room, its flowered curtains and carpet much less grand than Judith had expected. She looked longingly at the bed, plagued by a feeling of nausea, and wanting nothing more than to lay her throbbing head on the cool pillow and let the world go by. She turned to Mrs Carey with a persuasive smile.
'Would you be a darling and explain to Mr David that I can't face lunch, Mrs C, my digestive system hasn't recovered from my adventure last night and what I really need is a quiet couple of hours on that heavenly bed. If he's leaving before I get up, please say goodbye for me.'
'Yes, my dear, of course.' Mrs Carey waved to a door in the corner. 'This is one of the rooms with a bathroom, so you'll be nice and private. Have a good rest and you'll feel much better, I'm sure.'
Gratefully Judith nodded, slid out of her shirt and slacks and climbed beneath the covers with a sigh. How quiet it was, she thought dreamily, no one would think a busy market town was only a short distance away. Woodpigeons were cooing somewhere near at hand, and their soporific sound was the last thing she heard as she fell deeply asleep.
Judith woke to the sound of the stable clock chiming four, and found she felt very much better as she washed and put on the fresh pink blouse and white linen skirt brought with her. As she was brushing her hair carefully into something more like its usual shining fall there was a tap on the door and Miss Gresham came in, smiling.
'You look rather better than when I saw you last, Judith.'
Judith chuck
led. 'From all I hear I'd have quite a job to look worse!'
'Very true. Don't let it happen again, my dear. We were all, in our various ways, very upset.' Miss Gresham's eyes twinkled. 'Some of us more colourfully than others, I might add.'
'If you mean the amount of blood I managed to spill over everyone it's a miracle I have any left from the somewhat differing accounts I've been given!' Judith pulled a face, then remembered her manners hurriedly. 'I haven't said how grateful I am to be here, Miss Gresham. You're very kind.'
'Nonsense. No trouble at all. Now come and have some tea—Rafael tells me you've had no lunch.'
'No. For once my appetite is missing, but the thought of tea is very tempting.'
Miss Gresham preceded Judith from the room, throwing a considering look over her shoulder as they went downstairs.
'You still look a bit peaky, Judith—though possibly that eye of yours is contributing to the general effect.'
Judith searched in her bag and produced a pair of large-lensed sunglasses and slid them on. 'Better?' she asked cheerfully.
'A great improvement. Let's take a short-cut through the drawing room and join Rafael on the terrace,' said Miss Gresham.
Judith frowned. 'I thought he would have gone by now.'
(
Miss Gresham gave her a bland, innocent look. 'For some reason he decided to put off leaving for London until tomorrow.'
Tea was laid on a glass-topped table on the terrace, a gaily coloured umbrella shielding the tray from the sun. Rafael was leaning against the stone balustrade, deep in brooding thought near an urn full of geraniums and trailing blue lobelia. He turned sharply at the sound of footsteps, a sudden, glinting smile lighting his dark-skinned face as he came forward to greet them, his eyes reflecting the sun.
'Miss Russell—you are feeling better?'
'Much better, thank you,' answered Judith politely. 'I'm sorry I couldn't join you for lunch, I was feeling a little off-colour.'
'It is hardly surprising,' he said, his face instantly sombre. 'It is a miracle you escaped so lightly.'
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