“No,” she said firmly. “I know what I saw.”
Arthur jerked his head. He knew that nothing she could say would make things better. He would be better keeping his thoughts to himself and his mouth shut, rather than passing on his maudlin mood.
“You never know what is ’round the corner.” Bernadette stood and carried the plates into the kitchen. She began to rinse them under the tap, even though she hadn’t finished her food.
“Leave them,” he called after her. “I’ll do them.”
“It’s fine.” Her voice wobbled.
Arthur froze. It sounded as if she was crying. He should not have mentioned Carl, or argued with her about the church fair. Now what was he supposed to do? He sat stock-still, his shoulders stiff. Bernadette sniffed. He stared straight ahead, pretending that this wasn’t happening. He wasn’t good at this emotional stuff. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Me? Yes, of course.” She spun on the tap. But as she moved to retrieve the tea towel he saw that her eyes were wet.
He recalled a conversation with Miriam once. He had asked what she wanted for her birthday and she told him not to bother getting her anything; there was nothing she wanted. So he’d just got her a card and a small bunch of white freesias. That evening she barely spoke to him and when he finally asked why she was so snippy, she told him that she had expected a gift.
“But you told me not to get you anything,” he protested.
“Yes, but it’s a figure of speech. Like when you see a woman is upset and you ask her what’s wrong and she says, ‘Nothing.’ She doesn’t mean it. She means that something is wrong and that she wants you to ask her again what it is, and to keep on asking until you get an answer. You should have wanted to buy me a present, even if I told you I didn’t want anything. It was your chance to show you care.”
So Arthur knew that when women said things it could sometimes mean the opposite. “I don’t think that you are okay,” he said. He stood and walked over to her. He reached out and patted her shoulder.
Bernadette’s body grew stiff. “I might be. I might not.” She picked up a plate and wiped it with the dishcloth, then set it on the draining board.
Arthur reached out and took the cloth from her. He wrung it out and put it on the worktop. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She looked down, considering whether to tell him anything. “I went to my belly-dancing class last month and as I was changing I found a lump in my...boob. I went to the doctor and he referred me to the hospital to check for breast cancer. I get my results tomorrow.”
“I see... I, er...” He didn’t know what to say. Nathan was right.
“The doctor says it’s routine and it’s best to get things checked out. But my mother died from it and my sister had it. In all likelihood, I have it, too.” She began to speak more quickly. “I’m not sure how I’ll cope with Nathan leaving for university and Carl gone. I’ve not told Nathan. I don’t want to worry him...”
“I could drive you to the appointment...”
“You’ve not driven for a year.”
“I used to drive for my job. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
Bernadette smiled. “It’s kind of you, but no.”
“You’ve done a lot for me.”
“I don’t need repaying.”
“I’m not trying to repay you. I’m offering you a lift. And my friendship.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. “Nathan is only eighteen... Imagine if there was something wrong. First Carl and now me.”
“Try not to worry. You can’t possibly know until you get the results. All will be clear tomorrow.”
She took a deep breath and held it in her chest before exhaling through her nose. “You’re right. Thanks, Arthur.”
“I can pick you up in a taxi. You don’t have to go through this on your own.”
“You’re very kind. But I want to keep this to myself. I’ll go to the hospital alone.”
“Nathan is probably very worried.”
“I’ve kept it from him. He doesn’t know anything.”
Arthur didn’t know whether to tell her about Nathan’s visit and that he was worried sick. As he mused over what to say, his phone rang.
“You get your call,” Bernadette said. “I’m going, anyway.”
“Are you sure? They can phone back.”
She shook her head. “I’ll let myself out. Thanks for lunch. It was very nice.”
“What time is your appointment?”
“It’s in the afternoon sometime. Your phone is ringing. In the kitchen.”
“Tell me how it goes.”
“Your phone... You should get it.”
Arthur reluctantly opened the front door. Bernadette stepped out. He watched her walk along the garden path as he distractedly picked up the receiver.
The woman’s voice was clear and controlled. Her tone was so cold that it made him shiver. “Arthur Pepper?”
“Yes?”
“I believe that you’ve been looking for me. My name is Sonny Yardley.”
The Ring
“I AM REALLY not happy that you turned up at my place of work unannounced,” Sonny said. “It is most unprofessional. I might have been in the middle of taking a class. As it was, I was on sick leave so I really do not need this intrusion. It was on my return that Adam informed me that you had turned up in person looking for me.”
“I’m sorry. I did ring first, and left messages.”
“And I got them. That does not invite you to stalk me.”
Arthur reeled at the venom in her voice. He hadn’t realized his actions would cause such offense. “I really didn’t mean any harm, Ms. Yardley.”
“Well. It is done now. Did you find what you were looking for through Adam?” Her manner was still sharp.
“I have a piece of jewelry, a charm bracelet. I believe you might have designed a charm in the shape of a paint palette for it.”
“Yes.”
“Well, as I said in the messages I left, I think you knew my wife, Miriam Kempster. I think you may have given her the charm.”
Sonny didn’t speak. It made him feel uncomfortable. He carried the phone over to the kitchen table and tried to fill the silence. “Sylvie Bourdin gave me your name.”
“I don’t know of a Sylvie Bourdin.”
“She was also a friend of my wife’s. Miriam stayed with her in Paris. She suggested I get in touch.”
“Really,” Sonny said witheringly.
Arthur began to feel cross that she was being so inhospitable. “Ms. Yardley, my wife died. Twelve months ago now. I don’t know if you’re aware of that. I’ve been trying to find out some things about her past.”
He kind of expected her to apologize, to say that she was sorry for her manner, but again she didn’t speak. He thought that she must be very angry or was withdrawing her words as some kind of show of power. Perhaps she was still feeling poorly after her illness. So he began to witter again. Words tumbled off his tongue. He told her about the charm bracelet and how tracing the charms had led him to Paris, London and Bath. There were just two charms left for him to discover more about—the ring and the heart.
He could tell that she was still there from the occasional clicking noise, like earrings clinking against the side of the phone. When he had finished, he added, “So that’s the story.”
“I don’t know why I shouldn’t hang up on you, Mr. Pepper,” she said frostily.
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“Did your wife ever mention me to you?”
“No. I don’t believe she did. My memory can be a bit rusty, though...”
“I wonder how many other skeletons she kept in her closet. Do you know?”
“I, er, no.” They seemed to be speaking different languages and he was tired of playing games, following leads and not knowing where they were taking him.
“No. It doesn’t sound like you do,” Sonny said. “I shall take pity on you, then.”
“I went to the art college to find you. I saw a painting by your brother while I was there. It was of Miriam. He was a fine artist...”
“Yes, he was.”
“He no longer paints?”
“He is no longer with us. You really don’t know anything, do you?”